Misguided Ghosts
by Wincesteriffic Kaz
Summary: A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse" Wincest Case!Fic
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info**: A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: For Janice who wanted some case!fic with her naughty. :D Thank you for all you do for me!

This story is complete in 9 chapters so expect a chapter a day, more than likely. :D

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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_'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts  
Travelin' endlessly  
Don't need no roads  
In fact, they follow me  
And we just go in circles_

And now I'm told that this is life  
That pain is just a simple compromise  
So we can get what we want out of it

Would someone care to classify?  
Our broken hearts and twisted minds  
So I can find someone to rely on  
And run to them, to them  
Full speed ahead  
Oh, you are not useless  
We are just  
Misguided ghosts  
Travelin' endlessly

_Misguided Ghosts - Parmore_

**Chapter 1**

Bobby strode off his porch and headed toward the garage in search of his boys. Things had been a little rough after their Dad's death but Sam seemed to have finally pulled his brother's head out of his ass, for which Bobby was grateful. He smirked as he banged on the door before yanking it open and, as expected, found them on opposite sides of the Impala looking innocent with flushed faces. He rolled his eyes at them for thinking he was that stupid. He didn't exactly understand their relationship but it obviously made them happy – one of the few things they had left in this life that did anymore – so he'd just go on pretending to live in happy ignorance.

"Got you boys somethin' useful to do," Bobby announced and held up a folder, handing it to Sam. "Got a friend in Bardstown, Kentucky, who just took up ownership of a historic inn." He chuckled. "Apparently, he thought all the ghost stories were just to sucker tourists."

"I take it they're real." Dean walked over to look over his brother's shoulder, easing behind him on Sam's other side from Bobby and surreptitiously slid a hand over his brother's ass, enjoying the little twitch of the pages Sam was holding in reaction.

Sam cleared his throat and shot an irritated look at his brother. "How many are there?" He scanned through the pages while Dean's hand shifted up to the back of his neck and pressed meaningfully against the collar under his shirt. Sam tuned him out for a moment as he read and his brows rose. "You want us to try and lay all of them to rest?"

"Naw, not all of 'em," Bobby went to the cooler on a table next to the car and pulled out a beer, giving Sam a moment to knock his brother into line, which he did as Bobby heard a soft grunt and turned around to find Sam smiling and Dean glaring with a hand on his stomach. "Just one. Done a little of the research myself and I don't think the one my friend's worried about was there until recently. Over two hundred years of history and this is the first time anyone's been hurt."

"Any idea who it is…was?" Sam flipped through the rest of the pages, scanning the history of the Talbott Tavern and then snorted. He plucked the page out and turned, handing it to his brother. "Check out one of the ghosts rumored to visit."

"Who?" Dean looked down, reading through the list and his jaw fell open as he started to chuckle. "Oh, hell yeah, we are taking this job!"

Sam laughed. "Jesse James' ghost. I can see it now. I'm gonna find you knocking back whiskeys at the bar with a ghost in the middle of the night, aren't I?"

Bobby nodded and shook his head with an amused laugh at the cheerful expression on Dean's face. "Thought that'd get his interest." He took a drink from his beer and waved at the papers Sam was holding. "Place's only got five rooms, but Dave - that's my buddy - he's makin' sure to keep one open for you. I tried to get him to close down 'til you can deal with it, but then he started whinin' about mortgages and bank loans and I tuned him out."

Dean handed the page back to Sam with a laugh. "Good thing I just changed her oil then," He said and ran a hand over the trunk of the Impala and sent a meaningful look at his little brother while Bobby's head was turned, grinning as Sam's face heated.

Sam cleared his throat again and closed the file. "I'll go get us packed."

"I'll come with ya," Bobby followed him out and sighed. "I tried to get him to let ya just purify the whole damn building, but he wants the other ghosts to stay." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Damn fool's afraid if they're gone, his business'll dry up."

"Sooner or later, the rest of the ghosts are probably going to become a danger," Sam said sadly as they reached the house.

"I know, but he's runnin' the show right now so…we leave 'em." Bobby went up the steps and fixed him with a stern look. "That don't mean I expect you boys to let yourselves get hurt just to save his profit margin. If you gotta send the lot of 'em on, then do it. I'll deal with him later."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, a little relieved to know they could cleanse the place if they absolutely had to.

"I'll make ya up some of Missouri's charms to take with ya' while you pack." Bobby watched him go up the stairs to the room they shared and chuckled softly. "Idjits."

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Twelve hours after getting on the road, Sam had finally convinced his brother to find somewhere to eat. Dean had been enjoying the drive, like he usually did behind the wheel of his beloved car. Sam smirked. There were times he felt almost jealous of the car. He looked up at his brother across the booth and smirked again; Dean had a giant piece of homemade apple pie and was making obscene happy noises about eating it. Sam slipped his sneaker off one foot under the table and then eased his foot up between his brother's legs. He pressed his sock-covered toes into Dean's crotch and chuckled when Dean gasped and then coughed, trying not to choke on the bite he'd just taken.

Dean sputtered and coughed and stared wide-eyed as Sam's toes stroked down the length of his now hardening cock under the table. He narrowed his eyes. "Sammy."

"Yes, Dean?" Sam asked innocently. He leaned back and pulled the neck of his flannel open to bare the collar he almost never took off now. He didn't wear it as a symbol of subservience in any way, shape, or form. Neither of them wanted that. He wore it as a constant reminder of the bond between them and that special feeling of simply _belonging_. Not to mention it was sexy as hell, and he loved how he could use it to totally capture Dean's attention with nothing more than a simple gesture of putting his hand to his throat. Of course, the opposite was also true, and Dean could have him ready to go to his knees with just a touch to the simple band and that dark look in his eyes.

But for the moment, Sam was the one doing the teasing. He slid the fingers of one hand slowly under the dark brown elephant hair, licking his lips as Dean's eyes followed his fingers hungrily, and tugged on it. "Problem?" he asked and pressed his foot harder against Dean's cock, earning a grunt of arousal.

"Oh, you little…" Dean broke off as their waitress came up to the table.

"Can I get you boys anything else?" She fluttered her lashes at Dean, trying for at least the fourth time since they'd come in to get his attention.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued to stroke his toes over his brother. "I think we're good. Thanks."

"Oh." She gave only a parting, disinterested glance to Sam and looked back at Dean, leaning a hip on the table. "Are you sure?"

Dean had tried to be nice but the look she'd given his brother, like he wasn't worth her time, rubbed him just the wrong way. He put a cold smile on his face and looked up at her. "The only thing I need is to get my lover over there somewhere private so I can put that sweet ass to good use. Don't think you can help with that." He grinned as her eyes blew wide and her jaw dropped before she spluttered and walked away.

Sam was still staring at Dean, a little in shock that he'd actually said that aloud, not to mention feeling incredibly damn horny. "Holy shit, Dean."

Dean turned his eyes to his brother's now lust-blown, blue-green eyes and gave him a heated look as he licked his bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. Sam's foot stilled on his crotch while his eyes were glued to Dean's mouth and Dean chuckled. "Put your shoe back on, Sam."

Sam had to process that for a moment, brain sluggish with desire, and then he put his foot back on the floor and hastily yanked the shoe back on.

"Bathroom," Dean said firmly and leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the seat. "Now." Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean raised a finger and a brow. Sam closed his mouth with a small smile on his face, nodded, slipped out of the booth and headed for the back of the restaurant. Dean gave it a couple minutes, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. Thanks to Sam, he was hard as hell and could practically taste his little brother already. He got up finally and made his way to the back, around the thin wall that hid the restrooms and pushed open the men's room door.

Sam watched him come in to the small room and was all but vibrating with need since Bobby's arrival had aborted the fun they'd been about to have back at the salvage yard. The room was small, a single-occupancy bathroom, barely four-feet square with a sink, toilet, and one long, narrow mirror on the back wall. He took the two steps to Dean, reaching past him to push the door closed and lock it. He pressed up against his big brother and slid a hand down Dean's cock through his jeans with a smile.

"It was the pie," Sam said softly and bit along Dean's chin, smiling when his brother groaned softly. "The sounds you were making, and you kept licking those damn lips…Jesus."

Dean chuckled then and reached up to curl his fingers over the choker he'd given his brother, slipping them underneath until it pulled taut around his throat. "S'gonna cost ya', little brother."

"Oh, man, I hope so," Sam said with a breathless laugh and then moaned as Dean crushed their mouths together, thrusting his tongue into Sam's like he owned him…and he did.

Dean plundered Sam's mouth, tugging at the collar until Sam was a moaning, panting mess against him. He pushed him back a little and then turned him to face the mirror. He put his hands under Sam's shirt as he pressed against his back and ran them up his chest, scraping his nails over the skin and making Sam writhe while Dean watched his face. "Think she knows what we're up to in here?" Dean asked softly in his brother's ear and took hold of his nipples under the shirt, pinching until a needy whine came out of Sam and licked the outside of his ear. "That waitress. Bet she'd get on her knees if she could see you like this, hot…begging for me."

"Fuck, Dean. Please!" Sam gasped and couldn't take his eyes from the mirror and his brother's face, dark with passion over his shoulder. He moaned softly as Dean's hands moved down his chest to his jeans, opened them, and shoved them down.

Dean grinned as Sam muffled a whine while he wrapped his fingers around his brother's cock and pulled it out. It was hard, the head already weeping, and he gave it a hard stroke up and down to make Sam's knees weak. "So fuckin' hot, Sammy. Damn." He groaned and then took hold of Sam's shirts and pulled them up over his head, tossing them in the sink.

Sam groaned loudly when Dean pushed him over, slapping his hands into the mirror. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean behind him, the look of concentration on his face as he pushed Sam's jeans down farther to bare his ass and then opened his own taking out his straining cock. "Fuck, Dean."

Dean pressed the length of his cock between the cheeks of Sam's ass for a moment, just sliding up and down and reveled in the feel. He looked over and met his brother's lust-filled gaze in the mirror as he smoothed a hand over one cheek and pushed a finger up into him. Dean's mouth fell open on a groan of desperate need when he found that Sam was already lubed up and open. "Holy…when?"

Sam moaned and smiled, pushing back against the feel of Dean's finger inside him, needing more. "Last rest stop…bathroom." He gasped as Dean crooked his finger and brushed his prostate. "Wanted you!"

"Fuck." Dean pulled his finger out, overwhelmed that his brother had prepared himself to be bent over and taken wherever he could goad Dean into it. "You got me, Sammy." He growled and shoved his cock inside the wet, slick hole hard until his hips slapped into the cheeks of Sam's ass.

Sam turned his face into his shoulder to try and muffle the howl as Dean filled him completely and without warning. He gasped for breath and managed to turn his head back to the mirror as Dean pulled out, wanting to see his face again when he pushed back in. "God…Dean!" The look on Dean's face alone was almost enough to make him come, and he saw the glare of warning; no words needed to tell him that he wasn't allowed to touch himself. Sam shuddered and muffled another cry into his skin.

Dean fought the pull of Sam's body. Each time he drove in, it was like Sam's body tried to hold on to him. The muscles pulsing around his cock were going to make sure this was as short and dirty as he'd planned it to be. He cracked the palm of one hand into his brother's ass, leaving a red hand print and leaned over his body for a moment to bite possessively at his neck. "Want her to know," Dean's gravelly voice said in Sam's ear, earning another hard shudder from him. "Want her to know you're mine." He slammed home inside Sam again, gasping for breath into his hair. "That I'm yours." He reached down and took hold of Sam's neglected cock and gave three hard strokes in time with his cock moving inside him.

Sam's back arched up as he came helplessly, spattering his stomach and the mirror in front of him as he bit his own shoulder to try and muffle the cries of his pleasure. Dean's cock slid in and out of him so smoothly and powerfully, pressing his prostate on each stroke, and the vision of Dean behind him about to come for himself drew a second orgasm out of Sam.

"Shit, Sammy!" Dean said almost reverently as his little brother spasmed and writhed, seeing his face lost in pleasure, mouth open and breathing heavily while the muscles inside him closed like a vice around him. "Sam!" Dean's release slammed into him and he came, filling up his brother with hot pulses as his hips stuttered and he laid himself over his brother's back, trying to get his breath back.

Sam groaned and slowly pushed up from the mirror with Dean draped over him until he felt his brother slide his arms around his chest and tug him in. He let his head drop back to rest on Dean's shoulder and smiled. "My favorite...favorite caveman."

Dean chuckled and bit gently at Sam's neck just below the collar before he set him away and turned him around. "You're a mess, Sammy." He grabbed Sam's shirts from the sink and then took hold of his brother's hand before he could get hold of a paper towel. "Uh uh," Dean shook his head and stepped into him. He dragged a finger slowly down Sam's chest to his stomach and through the cooling spots of come. Dean brought the finger up to his mouth and sucked on it while Sam's eyes went wide like saucers and then he smiled.

"Dean," Sam groaned and sucked in a breath as his brother went to his knees in front of him. Sam curled forward over Dean's head as he felt his tongue stroking up his stomach, cleaning the come from him and the slow, rough scratch of the paper towel behind him.

Dean hummed into Sam's stomach with the taste of him in his mouth and leaned back. He took hold of Sam's jeans and pulled them up, carefully zipping them and buttoning him back up before he stood, curved his hands back around Sam's ass and squeezed. "I like knowing you've still got me in you."

Sam's eyes slammed closed on a fresh burst of lust as his whole body shuddered at the tone in Dean's voice. He rested his forehead against Dean's with a shaky laugh. "Fuck, Dean. Killin' me here."

Dean chuckled, gave his ass a little slap and went to the door. "Not yet, I'm not. Come on. We got more road to eat up."

Sam shook himself and adjusted his jeans around his cock as it decided it could happily rise to another occasion. He smirked when Dean waited for him and took his hand. Dean didn't normally indulge in the whole public display of affection thing unless he could either do it sneakily or if they were somewhere that their relationship, as men if not brothers, would be easily accepted. So, he smiled softly as Dean's warm fingers curled around his hand and followed just behind him at his shoulder.

Dean stopped at their table and pulled a five out of his pocket, tossing it on the table and looked over to grin at their waitress who was staring openly at them along with the other six or so people in the restaurant. They hadn't been exactly quiet. "That's for the service," Dean told her and pulled Sam out the door with him.

Sam couldn't help the chuckle and brought his brother's hand up to his mouth, dropping a kiss across his knuckles before Dean let go and went around the Impala to the driver's side. "You're shameless, dude."

Dean nodded and shrugged. "You like it."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened his door. "Yeah, I kinda do."

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Bardstown was smaller than Sam had thought it would be; not that it was tiny, but it was more like an oversized village than bustling town. Most of the buildings were old, turn-of-the-century stone and brick with faded, brightly-colored shutters. The Talbott Tavern stood out prettily on the corner of the square as they drove past it and around the back looking for the parking lot. The fire renovation from years earlier showed in its clean walls and well-tended structure.

Dean pulled into the small lot, parking at the end of a line of four other cars and looked over the back entrance beyond a victory garden and red-stone walkway. "Think this is one of the nicest places we've ever stayed." He climbed out and looked up at the old building. His Hunter's sense was already tingling with the feeling of something 'other' in the building. He went to the trunk with his brother to pull out their bags and grinned.

"Think I'll start my search in the bourbon bar." Dean waggled his brows at his brother. "Saw that on the brochure. A bourbon bar, Sammy."

Sam chuckled and put his bag over his shoulder. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." They walked up the stone path to the entrance and stepped inside into a spacious tavern that looked to take up most of the first floor. It was warmly lit with dark wood floors, stuffed chairs, two fireplaces, and an arch that led to what had to be the bourbon bar. Sam glanced around at the few people in sight and a shiver ran down his spine; there was definitely a ghostly presence in the building. He could feel them more keenly lately since his visions had become more common and distinctly hoped they wouldn't surface on this job.

"Hello there! You must be the Winchesters!" A middle-aged man with an impressive beer belly in a red-checked flannel shirt smiled and strode over to them. He was short, just reaching Dean's shoulder, and his rosy cheeks said he spent a fair amount of time sampling his own bourbon. He brushed thin, blonde hair off his face and held out a hand to them, shaking both their hands. "I'm Dave. Come on back to the office with me and we can talk." He leaned in after looking around furtively. "Don't want the other guests to know what's going on, you know?"

Dean nodded and turned to smirk at Sam as they followed him. "I thought the ghosts were good for business?"

Sam shrugged and walked closer to his brother, suddenly needing the comfort of his presence. "Maybe he doesn't want them to know that people have been hurt." He rolled his eyes. "It would probably boom his business rather than hurt it these days." He slapped a hand out to Dean's shoulder and lowered his voice. "We could call in the Ghostfacers."

Dean glared and made sure to stomp on his brother's foot. "You call those two idiots, and I'm tying your ass in the trunk for a week."

"Promises, promises." Sam grinned and ducked the slap to his head. He shivered suddenly and dropped back a step to look behind them. He'd felt something…watching. He couldn't see anything out of place, just the employees and patrons, and shook his head at himself. Dean would never let him live it down if he found out the place was giving Sam the creeps. "Not sure I like this job," he muttered and then jogged to catch up with his brother and Dave, not seeing the dark shadow that flitted from the wall behind them and into the light before it vanished.

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_To Be Continued… _


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Misguided Ghosts

**Author**: Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: Mmmm case!fic how I love writing you. :D and with the naughty it's just a bonus.

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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"_Hello there! You must be the Winchesters!" A middle-aged man with an impressive beer belly in a red-checked flannel smiled and strode over to them. He was short, just reaching Dean's shoulder and his rosy cheeks said he spent a fair amount of time sampling his own bourbon. He brushed thin, blonde hair off his face and held out a hand to them, shaking both their hands. "I'm Dave. Come on back to the office with me and we can talk." He leaned in after looking around furtively. "Don't want the other guests to know what's going on, you know?"_

_Dean nodded and turned to smirk at Sam as they followed him. "I thought the ghosts were good for business?"_

_Sam shrugged and walked close to him; suddenly needing the comfort of his presence. "Maybe he doesn't want them to know that people have been hurt." He rolled his eyes. "It would probably boom his business rather than hurt it these days." He slapped a hand out to Dean's shoulder and lowered his voice. "We could call in the Ghostfacers."_

_Dean glared and made sure to stomp on his brother's foot. "You call those two idiots and I'm tying your ass in the trunk for a week."_

"_Promises, promises." Sam grinned and ducked the slap to his head. He shivered suddenly and dropped back a step to look behind them. He'd felt something…watching. He couldn't see anything out of place, just the employees and patrons and shook his head at himself. Dean would never let him live it down if he found out the place was giving Sam the creeps. "Not sure I like this job," He muttered and then jogged to catch up his brother and Dave; not seeing the dark shadow that flitted from the wall behind them and into the light before it vanished._

**Chapter 2**

"Sit, sit." Dave waved them toward the chairs beside a large, oak desk and sat. "Now, you'll be staying in the Lincoln suite. It's at the back of the tavern over the kitchens and off by itself, but Bobby said you wouldn't mind that. I should tell you there have been a few…instances in the past in that room." He raised his hands. "Nothing violent, of course."

"Bobby wasn't able to find a whole lot on this new spirit of yours." Sam sat in one of the chairs and smiled. "Have you learned anything else? Maybe a hint as to who it could be?"

"No, nothing like that. Sorry." Dave sighed. "You can talk to the employees. They've all got stories." He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "When I took this place over, I swear I thought they were making it up."

"What changed your mind?" Dean asked and raised a brow as the man paled.

"I was cleaning up in the bourbon bar," Dave started softly and shivered. "Had to be three in the morning, and, uh…I looked up and there was this woman. She was all white, and, at first I thought it was a guest you know?" He shrugged. "Who thinks 'ghost'?" He laughed uncomfortably. "I asked if I could help her, and she just…kind of dissolved." He sat back in his chair hard. "Scared the crap outta me."

"Your resident lady in white," Sam nodded. "Harmless from what Bobby's turned up on her."

"Yeah, she's never hurt anyone, not that anyone's saying anyway." Dave shook himself. "Anyway. Talk to the employees. One of them probably knows something. Has to."

"We will." Dean promised. He stood from where he'd leaned against the wall and tried to look nonchalant as he crossed the room. He'd seen a small, almost invisible ball of light streak into the room and even now it was just floating beside a bookshelf in the corner. "Got any books around here devoted to the resident spooks?" he asked, covering his motive as he passed his brother. "Might help us sort out who's who, so to speak."

"There's a few copies some ghost hunter team did a few years ago. We keep them in the lobby."

Dean nodded and felt the temperature of the air around drop as he neared the orb. Just as he reached it, it zipped away through the wall and the air warmed again. He raised a brow and turned back. Dave was oblivious but the look on Sam's face said he knew what had happened. "Thanks, Dave."

"We'd like to get settled in and have a look around in the daylight." Sam smiled and stood.

"Oh, of course." Dave stood quickly and then stopped at the door. "You won't make them all go away right? Just the one that's hurting people."

"We'll do our best," Dean said and shrugged. "But if one of 'em tries to kill us, we are gonna kill it first."

"Right, no. Absolutely. Perfectly understandable." Dave opened the door and called out. "Betsy!" He smiled at them with a roll of his eyes. "She's kind of an idiot but the guests seem to love her."

Dean and Sam both rolled their eyes as the twenty-something girl with brown pigtails and far too much make-up bounced into view and made sure her ample chest preceded her into the office.

"Betsy, these are the Winchesters. They'll be staying in the Lincoln suite. Show them up please." Dave waved them out of his office.

"Thanks, Dave." Dean groaned as the girl eyed both him and his brother like they were lollipops.

"Gosh, you're tall," Betsy sighed and then clapped her hands together, making Sam jump. "Okies, let's go. You got your bags?"

Sam held his up. "Yeah." He decided maybe they should just find a motel around the corner from the tavern, because this had the potential to be damn irritating.

"Look, Sammy," Dean said under his breath as they followed her bouncing steps to the stairs. "It's Ditzy Barbie."

Sam snorted and slapped his brother's arm. "Shh." They followed her up the stairs while she cheerfully…too cheerfully…told them about the tavern, where everything was, what time meals were served…Sam rubbed at his forehead and the headache that was suddenly brewing.

Dean was more than ready to never see Betsy's cheerful damn face or perky, bouncy boobs – and even though he was now with Sam, Dean generally still enjoyed ogling perky, bouncy boobs whenever he got the chance - ever again by the time they reached their room at the back of the tavern, and he closed the door on her smiling face with a rude thump. "Holy crap, dude."

Sam groaned and dropped his bag on the floor and then looked up as Dean let out a low whistle. "Whoa."

"Dave meant it when he said 'suite'. Nice!" Dean smiled and looked around the little blue and white appointed sitting room, complete with its own fireplace, a couch that looked long enough for Sam, and a rocking chair. He stepped to the doorway to their left and grinned at the bedroom. The walls were a dark, hunter green with maroon curtains on the window and walls, a bricked over fireplace, small table, and a massive, antique cherry-wood bed that dominated the room. "Sammy."

Sam followed him and smiled while his head pounded. "Now THAT is a bed." He wandered into the warm room and crawled onto the bed, lying across it and groaned as his head rested into the soft, downy quilt covering it. "No more Ditzy Barbie. Please."

Dean frowned and climbed up next to him, sliding his hand into his brother's hair to press over his scalp. He smiled when Sam moaned appreciatively. "Headache or…"

"Just a headache," Sam assured him and pressed his forehead into the bed to give Dean's fingers better access to the back of his neck. "Five more minutes of this, I'll be good."

Dean chuckled softly and used his fingers to massage firmly into Sam's neck, up into his hair to rub at his scalp, and back down to his neck, all to the soundtrack of Sam's happy, appreciative sighs and moans until Dean had him in a boneless heap on the bed and half-asleep. "Still hurt?" He asked softly.

Sam smiled and turned his head toward his brother, not bothering to open his eyes and smiled. "Nope."

Dean shook his head fondly and ducked down to capture his lips in a soft kiss while he squeezed the back of his neck again. "Then can we please get up and go check this place out so I can bring you back up here and break in this awesome bed?"

Sam chuckled and opened his eyes. "Yeah, I think we can do that."

Dean slid his fingers under the choker and kissed him again, putting a little more heat into it so Sam rolled and wrapped a leg over his hips. He groaned happily and started to roll Sam back to lay on him.

Sam chuckled into the kiss and changed their positions, flipping Dean to his back and sat up to straddle his hips. "Work first, remember?"

Dean thrust his hips up into Sam's with a grin, making him moan. "I was planning on working…very, very hard."

"You ass," Sam rolled his eyes with a laugh and slid off Dean's lap and off the bed. "Come on."

Dean groaned but let Sam pull him upright. "You're awful pushy for a sub sometimes, Sammy."

Sam gave him a two-handed shove back onto the bed and left the room laughing while Dean chuckled. "If you had your way, we'd never get anything done."

Dean sat up again, straightened his shirts and shrugged with a grin. "Probably true." He followed his brother into the sitting room and took the can of salt tossed to him. "Not sure this is even gonna work for the ghosts around here. They kinda own the place."

"Can't hurt." Sam shrugged and pulled out the smaller can of salt.

"You caught that orb in Dave's office, right?"

Sam nodded. "Worries me a little that that spirit was that active…that brazen, during daylight. Seems a little odd."

"No kidding." Dean went back into the bedroom and poured salt across the base of the window and then stuck his head in the bathroom. He flicked on the light, seeing no window but grinned appreciatively at the oversized, antique claw-footed bathtub taking up the back half of the room. "Oh, I hope this turns out to be a dirty job."

"What?"

"Nothin'." Dean said as he came back into the living room and smiled innocently. He went to the bags Sam had tossed on the coffee table and pulled out his homemade EMF, flicked it on, and shoved it in a pocket. "You ready?"

"Almost." Sam went to his bag and pulled out two short lengths of iron. He'd taken one of Bobby's fireplace pokers and cut in half before they left. "Figured we shouldn't really wander around the tavern with salt-loaded shotguns. This might do." He handed one to Dean and slipped his own under his jacket where it couldn't be seen.

Dean stared, gave it a practice swing, and chuckled. "Dude, Bobby's gonna kill you if he finds out." He slipped it into his belt behind his back and nodded. "I like it."

Sam frowned as they left the room. "You're gonna hold this over me, aren't you? Next time you want something."

Dean turned to look at him, walking backwards down the hall and gave him two thumbs up. "Oh, you bet your sweet ass, little brother."

Sam slapped his palm into his forehead and groaned. "I am so screwed."

"Later," Dean promised with a laugh and stopped at the top of the stairs when the EMF in his pocket whined. He pulled it out and looked around. "You see anything?"

Sam shook his head. "No, but…I feel something." He frowned and moved to look down the cross hall that went to the other wing of the tavern, the more recent addition. "Something's watching us."

"Where'd that employee get his ass kicked by Casper?"

"The old root cellar." Sam started down the stairs. "So, basement?"

Dean shrugged and followed him. "Sure, why not?" He followed Sam down the stairs and noted there were more people in the tavern, some filing into the bourbon bar. "Know where I'm gonna keep watch tonight."

"Yeah, if an evil spirit shows up, the bourbon will be completely safe," Sam said and rolled his eyes. He hunched forward with a short laugh when Dean lightly slapped the back of his head. He pointed to a wall with a cracked and partially burnt mural as they passed toward the kitchens. "Should be a half dozen small holes in that mural." He gave Dean a smirk over his shoulder. "Jesse James got loaded in here one night and shot the thing up."

"Dude," Dean grinned like a kid and detoured to the mural to find them.

Sam shook his head and smiled. "I'm gonna be in the kitchen while you're licking the wall." He pushed through the doors and inhaled deeply as the smell of baking cookies filled the room. Sam smiled and nodded to an elderly woman over by the ovens. The kitchen had brown stone walls, marble counters, and every appliance he'd ever seen and a few he hadn't crammed into every available space. "I smell cookies," Sam said and then blushed with embarrassment. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say but it was what came out and the woman chuckled.

"Chocolate chip." She brushed a strand of silvering red hair from her face and waved him over. "I'm Adele. You must be one of the Winchesters. Dave came through and told me if two giant-sized men came in, it'd be you."

Sam chuckled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Sam." He looked over as the door swung open behind him. "This is my brother."

"Dean." Dean grinned at Sam and shrugged. "I'm older and better looking."

Adele gave a pretty, throaty laugh, enjoying the two of them, and pulled a towel off the counter to reveal rows of fresh cookies. "Come on then, boys."

Dean drooled a little and looked at her. "I think I love you."

Sam elbowed him lightly with a chuckle and took two, handing one to Dean. "I don't suppose you know anything about the, uh…ghosts around here."

Adele rolled her eyes and snorted. "Oh, I do. I've been cooking here for over twenty years. I've seen them all a time or two." She laughed softly. "You know, there was a time I would have laughed at anyone who had the sorts of stories I do. What do you want to know?"

Dean hitched a hip up on the counter near her and picked up another cookie, still licking his lips happily from the first. "We're interested in the one that's been hurting people."

Adele's pretty face sobered and she nodded. "Twenty years and no one's ever got more than a fast heart rate from the spirits here until the last few months and now…" She sighed and made a quick sign of the cross over her chest. "…that poor boy downstairs. It nearly beat him to death."

"Did he see it?" Sam asked and licked melted chocolate from his fingers. He glanced over and saw his brother's eyes on him and smirked as he sucked on the end of one finger before grabbing another cookie. "Anything could help us figure out who it was and…"

"Send his happy ass outta here." Dean finished and pulled his eyes away from his little brother and that damn finger in his mouth.

Adele shook her head. "He said something about a shadow coming for him and that was it." She sighed and raised her hands. "When he woke up a couple days ago, he couldn't remember much of anything, and the other people that were hurt all said the same - shadows and darkness coming for them."

"That doesn't sound good," Sam said with a frown and then looked around the kitchen. "How do we get down to the root cellar?"

"Door over there." Adele gestured with a wooden spoon to the other side of the kitchen. "That leads to the wine cellar, and there's a door at the back of that. You boys be careful down there."

"Yes, ma'am, we will." Dean smiled, snagged a last cookie with a grin, and gave his brother a push toward the door.

"Thank you, Adele." Sam smiled at her and crossed the kitchen with Dean at his back. He pulled open the wine cellar door, grateful to see modern lighting on the stairs and down below, and started down.

Dean waited until they reached the bottom and then shoved his little brother into the wall to claim his mouth. He licked in between Sam's lips, eating the startled gasp from his mouth along with the flavor of 'Sam' and chocolate and groaned happily. He curled his fingers around Sam's choker and grinned. "Want a cookie?"

Sam laughed and opened his mouth, letting Dean pop the cookie in between his teeth. He took a bite and pushed his brother back to look around the root cellar. "I think you should buy chocolate sauce."

Dean shivered and rolled his eyes for patience. "Sammy, you keep putting ideas in my head and we're never gonna get anything done."

Sam chuckled and finished off the cookie as he walked down the well-lit rows of wine racks. One side of the room held wine, but the other seemed to be solely devoted to bourbon, all from local distilleries according to the labels. "Well, if we get locked down here, at least we won't be bored."

Dean opened his mouth and then raised a brow when the EMF in his pocket started to whine again. He pulled it out and watched the needle rise higher as they neared a small door at the back of the long room. "Think we're getting warm."

Sam pulled open the door and had to duck to go through; it couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall. It was dark beyond and he felt along the wall to his right, smiling in relief as he felt a light switch and flicked it on. Fluorescent lights flickered on and revealed a long room, stretching the length of the tavern above with a low ceiling, hard-packed earthen floor, and stacks of boxes and crates covered in various layers of dust and cobwebs. "Well, they don't use this much."

Dean pointed off to the side where some of the crates were overturned and the dust disturbed. "Looks like that's where the guy got beaten." He held up the meter as the whine intensified and quickly pulled out the iron rod, watching Sam do the same. "Well something's still here."

Sam walked along the rows of crates, having to walk in a crouch as the ceiling was only six feet high. "Hello?" He called and shrugged when his brother snorted behind. "Never hurts to try and be polite, dude." As he closed his mouth, a cold feeling overcame him, and then he was pulled from his feet and tossed backward into a crate with a crash.

"Sam!" Dean ran to him, eying the room angrily for any threat. He looked down as his brother climbed stiffly back to his feet. "What was that about not hurting?"

Sam groaned and rubbed his back. "Dammit. Did you see anything?"

"Just your feet in the air." Dean smirked, relieved now that he knew Sam was alright and jerked to his left as something dark shifted in the corner of his eye. "Ok, saw that."

"What?"

"Shadow or something."

Sam spun to his right, seeing the same and raised the iron bar. "I think it's playing with us."

"I want my shotgun."

Sam nodded. "I want your shotgun too." He bravely moved deeper into the root cellar with Dean at his side, eyes alert for anything out of place. "Could be someone buried down here. Maybe they disturbed his grave in the last few months without even realizing."

"Sounds good to me. How do you suppose we find him?" Dean waved a hand at the rows of crates and boxes. "Can't exactly empty the place out."

"I'll think of something." Sam turned to check behind them and gasped as brother was thrown from his feet and slid ten feet back to the door. "Ok, we're out of here." He ran to Dean and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to his feet. "You alright?"

Dean growled out at the room and rubbed his backside. "Nothing hurt but my pride. Come on." He took Sam's arm and gave him a push toward the door. It slammed closed in front of them and both men shouted as they were thrown deeper into the root cellar to crash and roll as the lights flickered out and plunged them into darkness.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_**

_To Be Continued… _


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note:** Tired author…enjoying the slow story build. :D

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_**

_Dean smirked, relieved now that he knew Sam was alright and jerked to his left as something dark shifted in the corner of his eye. "Ok, saw that."_

"_What?"_

"_Shadow or something."_

_Sam spun to his right, seeing the same and raised the iron bar. "I think it's playing with us."_

"_I want my shotgun."_

_Sam nodded. "I want your shotgun too." He bravely moved deeper into the root cellar with Dean at his side, eyes alert for anything out of place. "Could be someone buried down here. Maybe they disturbed his grave in the last few months without even realizing."_

"_Sounds good to me. How do you suppose we find him?" Dean waved a hand at the rows of crates and boxes. "Can't exactly empty the place out."_

"_I'll think of something." Sam turned to check behind them and gasped as brother was thrown from his feet and slid ten feet back to the door. "Ok, we're out of here." He ran to Dean and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to his feet. "You alright?"_

_Dean growled out at the room and rubbed his backside. "Nothing hurt but my pride. Come on." He took Sam's arm and gave him a push toward the door. It slammed closed in front of them and both men shouted as they were thrown deeper into the root cellar to crash and roll as the lights flickered out and plunged them into darkness._

**Chapter 3**

Sam grunted painfully as he slammed into another crate and felt it collapse under him. His head banged into the hard ground and he saw stars as the darkness swallowed everything up with the lights gone. "Dean?" he managed after a moment and heard his brother's gasping breaths to his right. "Dean?"

"Fuck," Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over the back of his head. "I'm ok. You?"

"More or less." Sam fumbled in a pocket for his flashlight and groaned aloud as he found it. "Broke my light. Dammit. You have… Crap!"

"Sam!" Dean shouted fearfully hearing his brother crashing into something in the darkness and his pained cry. "Talk to me dammit!" He got to his knees and then his feet and started moving toward the sound of his brother's heavy breaths.

Sam pushed up to his knees, but a moment later, all the air went out of him yet again with the feel of something heavy slamming into his stomach. He was airborne again and this time crashed into something softer than boxes, realizing only as he went to the ground that it was his brother. He coughed harshly, trying to catch his breath and felt Dean's arms come around him to hold him tight.

"I gotcha," Dean gasped and pulled his brother into his chest before whatever was beating them could tear him away. He didn't like the sound of his breathing; fast, harsh and desperate. "Ease up, Sammy. Take it easy."

Sam coughed again and nodded, blinking furiously at the spots in his eyes and wishing for light of any kind. "Ok…I'm ok," he said finally, but it was barely a whisper as he wrapped a hand around Dean's forearm across his chest and held on. "See it?"

Dean shook his head and then got a tighter grip as a soft light began to glow in front of them. He took one arm from his brother and felt around the floor until his hand curled over the fallen half of the iron poker. He grabbed it and looked back up in surprise to see a white apparition forming. He'd been expecting the spirit attacking them and instead saw the first hint of a gentle, female face in the light.

"S'her," Sam slurred and pulled his feet back as the temperature dropped noticeably. "The woman in white." He watched her form above them with a flowing white, period dress that faded at the edges, long dark hair, and sad eyes as she looked down at them. A moment later, the lights flickered to life, blinding them for a moment and the door behind them opened with a long creak.

Dean's mouth opened in surprise. "Dude…did she just bail our asses out?"

Sam nodded, still watching her. "Yeah. I think so." She turned her head slowly behind her and then looked back to them and Sam could see fear on her face. "Think…I think we need to leave. Now."

"I think you're right." Dean eased out from behind his brother and got his feet under him, then pulled Sam up beside him. "You walk?" He saw a trickle of blood coming from Sam's temple and scowled angrily.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Go, we gotta go before…"

"…we get locked down again." Dean pulled Sam with him toward the door, glancing back as they reached it to see the lady vanish suddenly. He hastily dragged Sam through just as it slammed shut behind them again and headed for the stairs.

Sam pulled his feet under him and staggered up the stairs with Dean's help. He wrapped his free arm over his stomach and the ache there. "Next time…bringin' the shotguns."

Dean snorted and shoved open the door at the top of the stairs, banging into the kitchen. Adele turned with a gasp of dismay and her eyes flew wide.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" Adele was at their side in a moment and pushing Sam toward a chair while she kicked the door closed.

"Found your ghost," Dean groaned and knelt next to his brother to get a good look at him. "How bad?" He could see the small cut at Sam's hairline in the light and frowned at the way he was curled over his stomach.

"Sucker punched me…in the gut," Sam coughed again, clearing his throat and shook his head. "I'm alright. Just sore. How about you?"

Dean straightened his back with a grunt. "Nothin' dented but my pride."

"Here Sam," Adele came over with a damp cloth.

Dean took it instead and leaned up to wipe at the blood on Sam's face, cupping a hand around his jaw. He rubbed his thumb back and forth out of habit, soothing as his brother winced. "Ok. It's not that bad, ya big baby."

"There's a back stair." Adele gestured to another door. "You boys can take that up to your room and bypass the lobby and the early dinner rush."

"Nice. Thanks, Adele." Dean smiled up at her and looked back at his brother. "You ready to climb some stairs?"

Sam nodded and got up, not arguing when Dean gave him his shoulder to lean on. "Yeah."

"I'll send some up some of my chicken soup and homemade bread later." Adele promised as they left. "Put you right in no time."

They were both flagging by the time they reached the second floor and their room, groaning from the ache of fresh bruises and Dean lugged him into the bedroom. "Strip. We got a nice big tub to take care of the ache with."

Sam moaned happily and started pulling his jacket and shirts off. "I like this plan."

Dean smiled and went into the bathroom. He dropped the plug into the bottom of the tub and started the water running. He went back out and found Sam sitting on the side of the bed, staring at his sneakers. "Trying to will them off?"

Sam chuckled and flopped back on the bed with a pained grunt. "Yes. It's not working. Ow."

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and went over. He pulled up one of Sam's feet and pulled off the shoe then did the same with the other. He looked down and scowled, seeing a bruise starting to form on his brother's bare chest. "Really clocked you a good one." He bent and unzipped his brother's jeans, peeling them down his hips with little help from Sam.

"Back…friggin hurts," Sam groaned and finally lifted his hips so Dean could get his jeans and boxer-briefs off. He picked his head up and smiled, watching his brother strip his own clothes off and grudgingly sat up slowly, then stood. He let Dean push him toward the bathroom and leaned into the hands on his shoulders and then gave a happy moan at the sight of the tub. "That…is a serious tub."

Dean nodded and pushed him toward it. "Sasquatch sized. Get in." He stepped in behind his brother, eased down into the steaming water with a happy groan, and then pulled Sam's back in against his chest to just rest there and soak.

Sam settled, letting his head roll back to Dean's shoulder while the water sloshed lightly and moaned as the heat worked into his sore stomach and back. "We take this with us when we leave?"

Dean chuckled. "Wouldn't fit." They sat like that for a while with Dean adding more hot water to the tub periodically and relaxed, letting the aches work themselves out. Sam's back finally stopped protesting, and Dean slid his hands down his brother's stomach to his hips, pulling him in more closely, smiling at Sam's breathy sigh.

Sam smiled to himself and then moaned softly as he felt Dean's erection press into his back. His big brother always got a little clingy when Sam was hurt, and Sam didn't mind at all. He shifted his hips and his mouth fell open when Dean brushed a hand over his own cock. "Oh, yeah…please?"

Dean chuckled softly and stroked his brother with one hand, sliding the other beneath him. He shifted him a little, lining himself up and pressed the head of his cock inside Sam, still open from their little bathroom escapade earlier in the day but tight enough to rumble a groan out of Dean's chest. "Fuck." He kept it slow, easing into him inch by inch while Sam whimpered and shook, holding onto his knees.

"Dean," Sam breathed his name while Dean took hold of his hip with one hand to pull and push, sliding so slowly in and out of him. It was almost too much, and when Dean put a hand on his chest over his heart, Sam grabbed it and rolled his head over to take Dean's mouth in a passionate kiss.

Dean hummed into his brother's lips with the slick, tight slide of his ass around his cock. He moved Sam so slowly the water barely sloshed in the tub. It was gentle and maddening and perfect with soft moans and Sam's whimpers filling the steamy room. He slid their joined hands down to Sam's cock and wrapped around it, stroking just as slowly as his cock was moving inside him. "Love you, Sammy." Dean said softly as they kissed, tangling their tongues together.

Sam groaned, breath and heart racing as Dean's cock stroked lightly over his sweet spot over and over, making him tremble with need. He licked along Dean's mouth and sucked in his bottom lip, biting gently, loving the growl Dean gave him in response and the slightly harder thrust of his hips. He dropped his head back and Dean wasted no time attacking his neck.

Dean bit and sucked along Sam's throat over and around the choker, rubbing his cheek along it and then sucking a mark into the bend of his shoulder. "Gonna come for me, little brother?"

Sam moaned loudly and nodded, lost in the pleasure. He tightened their fingers around his cock while Dean pushed into him with long slides. He let out a long, broken moan as his orgasm found him, his hips stuttering in his brother's lap, but Dean kept hold of him, working him through it.

Dean pulled Sam back onto him again and again as he bucked and moaned, feeling the warmth of his release in the water, and then bit into Sam's shoulder as he came inside him, gasping around his flesh. They stilled slowly, Dean still pulling him, shifting his softening cock inside him a little at a time and giving short, gentle strokes to Sam's and they both sighed, content.

Sam rolled his head back to his brother with his eyes closed. "I like baths."

Dean snorted weakly and nodded into his neck. "Could get used to this." He let go of Sam's cock and rubbed a hand over his bruised chest. "How's it feel now?"

Sam chuckled. "Can't feel anything but you." He clenched his muscles, grinning when Dean gasped.

"Thought I was the one…takin' up all our time…with sex?" Dean laughed and pushed him forward a little to slip slowly out of him. "How about we get dressed before Adele knocks on the door with dinner?"

Sam turned slightly to slip an arm around his neck and kissed along his jaw. "Already had dessert."

"Such a girl," Dean chuckled but he curved a hand around Sam's jaw and kissed him slow and deep, the way he knew Sam liked it when they made love like this, and, though he'd never admit it, he liked it too.

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Dean came back into the room and shut the door. "Just talked to Dave. Told him the shotguns are comin' with us from now on." He smirked at his brother, stretched on the long couch in the sitting room with his laptop. "He says he'll tell the guests we're hunting gophers in the walls or something if they hear us."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like that's gonna work." He set the laptop back on his legs and groaned. "There's no Wifi. How the hell am I gonna do any research without finding the local library?"

Dean grinned and went to his bag. He rummaged around in the pocket and then went over to sit next to Sam's hip. "You know that stop outside Livingston when you were in the bathroom for twenty minutes opening yourself up for me and I didn't realize?" He smirked as Sam's pupils dilated a little and he nodded.

"Uh huh."

"That's because I was next door in Radio Shack picking this up." Dean handed him a small black box and chuckled as Sam's eyes shot open.

"Holy shit, dude! A Wifi hot spot?" Sam stared and was overcome with affection. He shoved the laptop off and reared up to wrap his arms around his brother's neck and kissed him hungrily.

Dean chuckled into the kiss and threaded his fingers into Sam's hair, giving it a tug and loving the moan he got in response. "I know. I'm awesome."

Sam snorted and sat back, turning it on with a silly grin. "Wifi is awesome."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just didn't wanna listen to you whine. You get your panties in a knot when you can't get online." He dodged the slap to his head and got up when someone knocked on the door. He pulled it open and smiled widely. "Hey, Adele."

"As promised," Adele grinned up at him and pushed a small cart into the room. "Soup and my bread, which you will love and want more of. And if I decide I like you, I might keep a loaf tucked away over the oven in the kitchen."

Dean chuckled. "You're my kinda woman, Adele."

Sam glanced up from the computer he'd pulled back onto his lap and smiled at her. "We could have come down for dinner. You didn't have to come up here with all that."

Adele waved his objection away with a smile and was relieved to see him looking much better. "I don't mind at all. Now, you both eat up before you do anymore ghostbusting." She went to the door and looked back at them. "You know, you boys could have just said you were lovers instead of brothers. We're not that narrow-minded around here."

The spoon Dean had picked up clattered back to the tray and Sam stared open-mouthed. "What…how…" Dean sputtered.

Adele laughed. "As if anyone could see the way you two look at each other and not notice." She waved a hand. "Don't worry. I won't give you away. Just wanted you to know, we're fine with that sort of thing around here." She pointed a finger at Dean's still stunned face. "You make that boy eat."

Dean nodded, dumbstruck, until she left and then ran a hand through his hair with a crooked smile. "Holy crap."

Sam shook himself and gave his brother a mock glare. "I told you to stop staring at my ass in public!"

"Oh, sure. Blame it on me." Dean snorted and took the tray off the cart, setting it on the coffee table. "You're the one who was suckin' chocolate off his finger in the kitchen like you were pullin' venom out of a snakebite or something."

Sam snorted and shrugged. "It was good chocolate."

They ate companionably while Sam used his new hotspot to research and kicked his brother every time Dean tossed bread crumbs at him. "Hey, I think I've got something." Sam sat up and quickly scanned down the headline of the newspaper page he'd found in the city's archives online. "According to this, when the fire happened in '98, one of the guests went missing. The police decided he must have just taken off and skipped paying his tab, but there's a couple statements here from other guests and something about the man having been in the middle of some feud here in town." Sam frowned. "Looks like he was staying here after someone…" he leaned back and sighed. "…burnt his house to the ground."

"Well, that's not a coincidence," Dean nodded. "Sounds like whoever tried to kill him at home followed him here and got the job done."

"Yeah. His body has to be in the building somewhere." Sam set the laptop aside and sat up. "I want to talk to Dave. See if he knows anything. I know it was before his time, but still…something set him off, and my money's on it having to do with that cellar."

Dean pulled the laptop over and read the name of the missing man. "Think I'll suit up and head over to the precinct. Make sure our missing man didn't just show up a week later and it never got reported to the news." He stood and grabbed his bag and then gave Sam a stern look. "Stay the hell out of that cellar without me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm not that stupid."

Dean snorted and raised a brow to say silently he wasn't so sure of that.

"Trust me. I'm staying where the people are." Sam raised his hand in the age old sign and smirked. "Scout's honor."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That'd hold some water if you were ever a scout, dumbass.

Sam flipped him off with a cheerful smile and left him to change, knowing he'd be tempted to jump him otherwise.

Dean glared until the door closed and then grinned affectionately while he pulled out his suit. "Bitch."

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_To be Continued… _


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note:** :D

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_**

_Sam set the laptop aside and sat up. "I want to talk to Dave. See if he knows anything. I know it was before his time but still…something set him off and my money's on it having to do with that cellar."_

_Dean pulled the laptop over and read the name of the missing man. "Think I'll suit up and head over to the precinct. Make sure our missing man didn't just show up a week later and it never got reported to the news." He stood and grabbed his bag and then gave Sam a stern look. "Stay the hell out of that cellar without me."_

_Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm not that stupid."_

_Dean snorted and raised a brow to say silently he wasn't so sure of that._

"_Trust me. I'm staying where the people are." Sam raised his hand in the age old sign and smirked. "Scout's honor."_

_Dean rolled his eyes. "That'd hold some water if you were ever a scout, dumbass._

_Sam flipped him off with a cheerful smile and left him to change, knowing he'd be tempted to jump him otherwise._

_Dean glared until the door closed and then grinned affectionately while he pulled out his suit. "Bitch."_

**Chapter 4**

Dean stepped out of the police station an hour later and a lot more frustrated. The locals hadn't been at all impressed with a 'Fed' intimating that they'd botched an investigation, and the only thing Dean was sure of at that point was that their missing man, Grady Peterson, was still among the missing all these years later. He took out his cell and dialed his brother to see if he was having better luck. Dean frowned as it rang and went to voicemail.

"Dammit, Sam. Answer your phone." Dean dialed him again and climbed into the Impala with a last dirty look for the police precinct. Sam's phone rang again and went to voicemail and he started to worry. It was only five minutes back to the tavern, but it seemed like hours before he was parking out back and running in the back door. He wasn't in the mood to wade through the dinner rush now that night had fallen and he could hear the sound of too many voices inside. He shoved open the door to the kitchen and latched onto Adele.

"Adele! You seen Sam?" Dean asked and strode to her as her eyes widened.

"Dean." Adele patted a flour-covered hand on his chest. "Now, don't be flyin' off the handle. Sam's going to be fine."

"Going to be?" Dean's eyes blew wide and he grabbed her arms. "Where is he? What the hell happened?"

"He's up in your room. Come along with me." Adele gently pried the upset man's hands from her arms with a smile and took one of his hands in hers to lead him out. "Barry! Kitchen's yours for a bit!" She called and pulled Dean to the back stairs. She could feel him behind her like a tense string waiting to explode. "The official story is he tripped on a loose rug and fell down the stairs."

"He fell?" Dean's heart leaped into his throat and he swallowed it back. "And the unofficial story?"

Adele glanced over her shoulder at him. "I was just coming out of the kitchen and I saw him going up the main stairs out front." She shivered and started walking faster. "I saw it, Dean. It was like this…black shadow. It came out of the wall and crashed into his chest, and he just…" She broke off, having to swallow hard against the terror of those few moments, watching as poor Sam had crumpled and rolled down the stairs to land motionless at the bottom. "He's going to be fine. The town doctor was in the bar when it happened and she's up here with him now, so don't you go exciting him. He's shaken enough."

Dean bristled but understood. He wouldn't do either of them any good going into the room like a whirlwind and yelling. He let Adele open the door to their suite and was relieved to see his brother laid out on the long couch, feet up and eyes open though he looked a little dazed. A very short woman with a mop of curly blonde hair and a very pretty face leaned back from shining a light in his brother's eyes and smiled.

"Sammy?" Dean said and stepped around Adele to go to the couch and sit next to him. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes, dude."

Sam gave a wan smile and put a hand on his brother's elbow. "M'ok. Right, doc?"

"His head's still in one piece. Doctor Cavanaugh." She held out a hand that Dean quickly shook. "I want to take him to the ER and get some x-ray's to be sure, but he won't let me."

Dean looked over at his brother with raised brows and saw the sad look cross his face for just a moment. Dean sighed and clasped a hand around his neck before looking at the doctor. "We, uh…we lost our dad not long ago." His throat tightened as he said it, and he felt Sam's hand squeeze his arm harder in support. "We were in the hospital, and they said he was ok and then…"

"I'm so sorry." Dr. Cavanaugh said softly and sighed. "Well, Adele saw the whole thing and seems fairly sure he didn't hit his head more than once." She shrugged. "I can't even find a bump, so we'll play this by ear. If at any point he becomes disoriented, confused, or you can't wake him up, you rush him to the hospital. No arguments. You understand?"

Dean did. If any of those things happened, it would be a race to get Sam to help before it was too late. "Trust me. I'll be watching him like a hawk."

"Ok, good." The doctor put her light in a bag at her feet and took a stethoscope from her lap and put that in as well then stood and went for the door. "Adele, you can call me if you need anything."

"I will, Grace. Thank you." Adele showed her out and turned back to find Dean leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead that made her sigh for the sweetness of it. She cleared her throat and he straightened to look at her. "Dial five on the phone and you'll get the kitchen and me."

"Thanks, Adele." Dean smiled but was anxious for her to leave so he could talk to his brother. He sighed when the door closed again and turned back to him. "Alright, buddy. How about you tell me what actually happened and how bad you're really hurt."

Sam nodded and leaned in to Dean's hand on his neck, wanting the comfort and, for the moment, unashamed of it as pain pounded through his skull and not from the fall. "It jumped me on the stairs. I never even saw it coming." He shook his head slowly. "It…he…slammed into me, and I saw…" He squeezed his eyes closed, remembering.

"Your shining kicked in, huh?" Dean asked and understood without Sam having to say it that his head must be splitting. "Come on." The fact that Sam hadn't moved since he'd come in told him just how banged up he was, so Dean got him standing as gently as possible, letting Sam's head loll into his neck, and half-carried him into the bedroom. He laid his little brother down, settling his head into the pillow with a small smile as Sam moaned appreciatively. Dean kicked off his shoes and pulled off the suit jacket, tie, and shirt and climbed in beside him in just his pants. As he expected, Sam gingerly moved to curl into his chest.

Sam put a hand over Dean's heart with a sigh, feeling it beating under his palm and letting the warmth of his skin soothe him. "It was Grady Peterson's ghost. God, Dean…" He broke off and pressed his forehead into his brother's skin, willing the pain in his head to lessen. "…he's just…enraged doesn't even begin to cover it."

Dean slid his hands up Sam's back to his head and tunneled his fingers into his hair to gently rub back and forth. "I know why. That fire that destroyed his house killed his sixteen-year-old son."

Sam nodded sadly. "Saw him. Grady still thinks he's…exacting revenge or something. I dunno. There's nothing rational left to talk to." He shuddered softly. "I saw him die. He burned, Dean. He was alive and conscious, and whoever killed him…they just listened to him to burn alive."

Dean pressed his lips into the top of Sam's head and slid his arms around him to hold him tightly. Death by fire was a personal sort of demon for them, understandably, and he was suddenly very, very angry with a dead guy for putting his little brother through that. "Alright. We'll find his bones and put him to rest. You just need to take it easy right now." He brushed his cheek into Sam's dark hair. "Let me grab the painkillers from the first aid kit, ok?" He started to ease out, but Sam's arms tightened around him. "Hey, come on."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, letting him go with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry."

"Thirty seconds, dude and then you can cuddle me like your personal teddy bear all damn night." Dean chuckled and slid out of the bed, careful not to jostle Sam. He went to the weapon's bag and dug the painkillers out of the first aid kit, then went to the bathroom. Dean shucked off his suit pants and poured a glass of water, left the light on and turned the bedroom light off instead, knowing how sensitive to light a headache could make his brother. He set the glass and bottle on the nightstand and put a hand on his brother's hip.

"Sit up for me for a sec, alright?" Dean tugged Sam up slowly, watching the play of pain over his face and pulled his t-shirt off. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw new bruises springing up over the ones Sam had received in the root cellar. "How many stairs did you go down?" he asked as he laid Sam back down and started peeling his jeans down his legs.

"I dunno…half the flight maybe," Sam said it softly, afraid to speak too loudly and jostle his head. "That sucked, man. I couldn't even grab the banister to stop myself with him in my head."

"I'm gonna enjoy sending this asshole on the hard way," Dean growled angrily and then sat next to his brother. He shook out two pills and handed them to him.

"Thanks." Sam took them and swallowed them dry before taking a sip of the water and resting his head back again. He felt a little useless as Dean tugged the quilt and sheet out from under him and then covered him, but couldn't be stirred to actually do anything about it. His whole body felt like one big bruise.

Dean slipped under the covers in the half-light from the bathroom and pulled Sam in against him, cradling him against his chest with his head under his chin and just listened to him breathe for a moment. "Scared the crap out of me," he said softly. "I was calling your phone and you didn't answer, and I just…I knew."

Sam chuckled softly into his chest and wrapped his arms around Dean to get as much of their skin touching as possible. "You and that damn radar of yours."

Dean snorted. "You have no idea, Sammy." He brushed a hand up Sam's back to rest over the braided, elephant hair collar and let out a long sigh as Sam's weight settled more firmly into him. He'd been planning on going back down to the cellar locked and loaded to find the son of a bitch and dig him up. He rolled his eyes. Purifying the whole damn tavern was starting to look better and better.

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Sam woke in a warm cocoon, dreaming that he was sleeping on a muscled mattress. He opened his eyes and, in the dim light from the bathroom, smirked. He was sprawled half on top of his brother's chest. He rolled his head over to look at his sleeping brother and was pleased to find that it wasn't pounding the way it had been when he fell asleep. He eased up from Dean with the sudden need to go to the bathroom, gently pushing the arm off his back.

"Shh, go back to sleep," Sam whispered when Dean stirred with his movement. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles over Dean's cheek and grinned, wondering how mortified Dean would be if he knew he fell asleep with the simple gesture every time Sam used it. He eased off the bed gingerly, wary of his sore back and chest and padded barefoot to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror over the sink and groaned softly. His chest wasn't too bad, with only the one large bruise and a few smaller, new ones, but his back looked a little like a Rorschach ink blot. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and went back out.

A soft creak drew his attention to the sitting room. Sam tensed as the feeling that they were no longer alone came over him. He went to the weapon's bag and pulled out one of the shotguns, checked that it was loaded, and stepped into the sitting room. Moonlight shone in through the white curtains over the window and his eyes widened, watching the rocking chair as it rocked back and forth all on its own.

"Oh, crap," Sam whispered and backed a step into the bedroom. "Dean."

Dean jerked awake with his brother's voice and picked his head up. "Sammy?" He saw him standing in the door wearing only his boxers and choker and holding a shotgun aimed into the other room. It woke him completely instantly and he jumped out of the bed. "What's goin' on?"

Sam nodded into the sitting room and stepped aside. "We've got company."

Dean stuck his head around the door and saw the chair rocking. He scowled. "Well, so much for the salt lines keeping them out. What the hell?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Hasn't done anything but that yet." He eased further into the room, keeping the shotgun on the chair just in case. "Hello?"

"You know, the last time you tried to talk to one of 'em, we ended up bein' used as punching bags," Dean warned him and grabbed the can of salt from the table. "You're callin' Bobby tomorrow and finding a way to ghost proof this damn suite."

Sam nodded and took another step into the room. He looked over his shoulder when there was a thump on the room door and raised a brow at his brother.

"I'll check the door. You keep an eye on ghost granny." Dean reached into the weapon's bag and pulled out the other sawed-off shotgun and then went to the door. He turned the knob, pulled, and the door remained stubbornly closed. "Aw, what…come on!" He put all his weight into it and couldn't even rattle it in its frame. "Dude, we're on lockdown in here!"

"What?" Sam asked in surprise. That meant they weren't getting out of the room until the spirit decided to let them. He moved closer to the still gently moving chair. "What do you want?" He took a step back as an apparition began to form in the chair. "Dean!" A moment later, the spirit of the woman in white took form and turned her dark head to look at them. She looked past Dean to the door, then to Dean and back to Sam and shook her head slowly.

"You don't…want us to go out there?" Sam asked quietly and she nodded. "Is the spirit who hurt us out there?" She nodded again.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled and looked back at the door as there was another bang from the hall. He glanced back at the woman's ghost. "She must have some serious mojo to be keeping him out."

Sam nodded. He started running through the history of the tavern that he'd read and it started to come together in his head. His eyes widened and he stared at her while she slowly rocked. "He's not family, is he?" he asked and she shook her head with a small, sad smile.

"Wanna share with the class?" Dean didn't like having the chick in their room, even if she was supposedly protecting them from something. It made him nervous. Ghosts and Winchesters generally did not play well with each other.

"All the ghosts here, I'm pretty sure they're part of the original Talbott family, or most of them anyway." Sam shrugged and backed away from her before his brother's protective instincts kicked in. "I'm pretty sure she was one of the kids, a twin, and her sister died at birth. There's a half dozen other dead Talbott kids."

"Well Jesse friggin James ain't family and he's been here." Dean pointed out with a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah; but his spirit's been visiting here longer than the Talbotts have been here."

There was another loud bang from outside their suite, followed by a short, strangled cry and then silence. "Ok, that didn't sound good. Lady, you need to let us the hell out now!"

"Please," Sam asked her. "Someone's hurt. We can help." The lady in white lowered her head and abruptly vanished. "Uh…try the door now." Sam watched as the rocking chair stilled and then followed his brother. "Dude, pants?" It occurred to him suddenly that they were both in their underwear, and he supposed someone was about to get a good view of them.

Dean shook his head and took hold of the doorknob, more concerned with what was going on out in the hall. He yanked the door open and stepped out, leading with the shotgun and groaned. "Shit."

"What?" Sam came out behind him and his mouth fell open. "Oh, God." He dashed to the end of the hall and knelt by the body of a young man. He was bloodied, and as Sam looked at his wide eyes, he knew he was dead.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and put a hand out to his brother's shoulder. "Back in the room. Let's get dressed and then we'll…cops, I guess. Dammit."

Sam reached out and gently closed the man's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling they had somehow failed this poor man.

"Come on." Dean pulled him up and nudged him back to their room. "We're finding this asshole's bones tomorrow or we're purifying the whole damn building. This ain't happening again on my watch."

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_To Be Continued… _


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author**: Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note:** This chapter? Yeah…it's just naughty fun. *snicker*

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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_There was another loud bang from outside their suite, followed by a short, strangled cry and then silence. "Ok, that didn't sound good. Lady, you need to let us the hell out now!"_

"_Please," Sam asked her. "Someone's hurt. We can help." The lady in white lowered her head and abruptly vanished. "Uh…try the door now." Sam watched as the rocking chair stilled and then followed his brother. "Dude, pants?" It occurred to him suddenly that they were both in their underwear and he supposed someone was about to get a good view of them._

_Dean shook his head and took hold of the doorknob, more concerned with what was going on out in the hall. He yanked the door open and stepped out, leading with the shotgun and groaned. "Shit."_

"_What?" Sam came out behind him and his mouth fell open. "Oh, god." He dashed to the end of the hall and knelt by the body of a young man. He was bloodied and as Sam looked at his wide eyes, he knew he was dead._

_Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and put a hand out to his brother's shoulder. "Back in the room. Let's get dressed and then we'll…cops I guess. Dammit."_

_Sam reached out and gently closed the man's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling they had somehow failed this poor man._

"_Come on." Dean pulled him up and nudged him back to their room. "We're finding this asshole's bones tomorrow or we're purifying the whole damn building. This ain't happening again on my watch."_

**Chapter 5**

Dean leaned over the bar in the bourbon bar and poured himself another drink. He'd left Sam up in the room after his brother had suggested he go check out the bar while Sam got some rest. Dean had been unwilling to have him out of his sight while Grady the ghost seemed to have it in for him but Sam, in typical irritating little brother fashion, had won the argument. Dean smirked; he'd enjoyed the disgusted look on his brother's face when he'd ordered Sam to stay in the damn room. He realized there was actually some insane part of him that was expecting the lady in white to protect him again if the asshole showed back up. The police had been and gone. Yellow tape fluttered in the hall outside their room, and the other guests of the Talbott tavern had made themselves scarce once they'd found out why police were swarming the tavern and what the coroner's van out front was for. He sighed and knocked back the shot of bourbon, then poured another. Dave had sent most of the staff home as well, giving them all a few days off while the investigation was handled which was how Dean ended up tending bar for himself at four in the morning.

He picked up a shot and raised it to the bar. "Bottoms up." He swallowed it, saw movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and promptly choked to find the ghostly form of a man who Dean instantly recognized from various old photos he had seen - Jesse James' spirit perched on the stool beside him and was looking at him with a smirk on his ghostly face. "Wastin' good fire water, son." The spirit's voice was soft and just loud enough for Dean to hear. He rapped his knuckles on the bar and looked meaningfully at Dean under the brim of his hat.

"Holy…yeah, yeah." Dean reached over and pulled out another shot glass, hastily filled it, and slid it over to the spirit. He suddenly recalled what Sam had said yesterday about catching him knocking back shots with Jesse James and he grinned. "Son of a bitch." He watched the gunslinger's apparition lift the shot and drink it, lick his lips, and smile. A puzzled frown appeared on Dean's face as it crossed his mind to wonder exactly how that worked when the amber liquid disappeared into the ghostly form but he decided it really didn't matter. He was drinking with Jesse's James' ghost, and that was awesomely cool.

Jesse looked over at him and tipped his hat. "Don't mess with the mural, son. I already fixed it."

Dean's jaw dropped and his face reddened as he had, indeed, earlier tried to dig one of the man's bullets out as a keepsake. He shook his head and grinned again, then held up the bottle. "Another?"

Jesse looked around the vacant bar and sighed. "Reckon I can find somewhere a might more excitin' to spend the night."

Dean opened his mouth and then snapped it closed as the ghost vanished. He leaned back on his stool and couldn't wipe the stupid grin from his face.

"I knew it," Sam's voice came from behind him and startled Dean so hard he nearly fell off the stool.

"Sam! Dude, did you see that?" Dean jumped up and started laughing. "Jesse friggin James, Sammy! Holy shit!"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "It's five in the morning, Dean. Come on. You can dream about him."

"Dude was kinda hot," Dean observed and roared a laugh at Sam's disgusted face. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon off the bar and, on impulse as he followed Sam out, he snagged the period cowboy hat hanging on the wall, popping it on his head in what he figured was a close approximation of the way Jesse James had been wearing it. "Come here often, pardner?"

Sam looked over and rolled his eyes, then snorted a laugh. "Can't believe you were actually getting tanked with a ghost."

"The ghost of Jesse James, dude. That's like…a moral imperative. Had to be done." Dean took a swig from the bottle and walked up the stairs beside him.

"You're not wearing the hat to bed," Sam said firmly as they reached the top of the stairs, and Dean had to stop and look at himself in a mirror. Sam chuckled, amused with him until they turned down the hall to their suite. The sight of the yellow crime scene tape stole the humor away and left Sam humbled as he opened the door.

"Pretty sure I told you to stay up here when I went back downstairs," Dean said and pushed the door closed behind them.

Sam groaned and raised his hands. "Grady's spirit had to expend a hell of a lot of energy to do what he did out there. Figured I was safe for a couple hours." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Can we just go back to bed?"

Dean wanted to yell at him for risking himself, but Sam was right and the bags under his eyes had their own damn bags. "Yeah; but we're talkin' about this later." He slapped Sam's ass when he went past with a laugh and then swaggered into the bedroom after him.

Sam turned and plucked the hat off his head, flinging it into the bathroom and shook his head with a laugh. "Just you, thanks. Jesse can find his own date." He leaned into his brother and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Besides, you promised I could cuddle you all night. It's still night."

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Yeah, I did. Fine. Bed." He stripped off his jeans and gave Sam a gentle push to the bed, letting him climb in first. He flicked off the light and then crawled in after him. He'd barely settled when he had an armful of little brother as Sam molded himself to his side, tossed a leg over his legs and rested his head on his chest with a weary sigh. "It wasn't our fault, Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes and nodded into Dean's chest. "I know." He brushed his lips over Dean's skin and squeezed him a little more tightly in the dark. "Kind of feels like it is, though."

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Sam sat cross-legged on the bed with the laptop while Dean showered and researched Grady Peterson and his son's death. They had slept until almost noon after the eventful night, and the tavern was still quiet with the guests gone and most of the employees as well. It felt a little lonely, but it was the best thing for everyone until they sorted the mess out. Convincing Dave had been pretty easy after he saw the man's body, confirming that he'd been an employee. Dave was crushed.

Sam's research had turned up a likely candidate for the murder of both Peterson men, and, he'd discovered the man was still in town. He scowled. He really wanted to make sure that his days of living free came to an end and he paid in some way for the lives he'd destroyed. As far as Sam was concerned, he was not only responsible for Grady and his son's death, but the man last night and everyone who had been hurt. "Asshole," Sam muttered and bent back to read more about one Thomas Clearwater, murderer. He heard the shower turn off and the bathroom door open and sighed.

"Hey, Dean. I think we should go talk to…" Sam looked up, his mouth dried and his train of thought instantly derailed with the vision of his brother, naked, glistening with water from the shower, and that damn cowboy hat tipped low over his face so his green eyes just showed under the brim and the look in them was hungry.

"What were you sayin', Sammy?" Dean asked in the gravelly voice he knew turned Sam on and licked his bottom lip.

Sam stared transfixed and swallowed hard. His eyes followed each cut of muscle, the droplets of water as they rolled off his pectoral muscles, and the hard, proud length of Dean's cock against his stomach. "Uh…I, uh…wow."

"Think you're wearin' a might too many clothes there, buddy." Dean drawled slowly as he ran his hands down his chest, over his hips and cupped them around his heavy cock. He smirked as he practically watched the IQ points fall away from his genius brother. He strutted over to the bed, closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand then slipped a finger under Sam's chin to tilt his head up and meet his lust-glazed eyes. "I seem to recall tellin' you to stay put here last night." He dragged the nail of his index finger down Sam's neck, watching his eyes blow wide, and curled it around the choker at the base of Sam's throat, giving it a tug. "Strip."

Sam stared a moment longer, bereft of speech, and then scrambled to tear off his shirt and throw it aside. He was all but vibrating with need as he leaned back to pull off his sweats and toss them as well. He swallowed hard again when Dean wrapped his hands around his ankles and pulled him to the edge of the bed.

Dean couldn't keep the satisfied smile from his face seeing Sam already gone so far into lust that he'd lost the power of speech. "Think I need to remind you who's callin' the shots around here." He saw the expected spark of defiance in Sam's eyes, but he was ready for it. He used Sam's legs to flip him to his stomach and then wrapped his fingers in the back of his choker, using it to pull his little brother up to his knees and Sam flat-out whined. Dean groaned with the sound going straight to his cock. He pulled Sam's back in against his chest and sucked behind Sam's ear until he whimpered and felt his fingers scrabbling at his hips for purchase while he moaned.

"Pretty much got the whole place to ourselves," Dean said in his ear, low, and bit the edge of his ear. "You. Me." He chuckled and tugged on the collar again, pulling it taught against the front of Sam's throat. "And my awesome hat." He heard Sam huff out a surprised laugh, smiled, and drew his free hand back. He landed a solid slap on his little brother's ass and groaned, feeling his cock jump in response when Sam cried out. It humbled him a little every time Sam gave himself over like this, so completely and willingly. He could have easily jerked Dean's hand from the collar. Hell, he could have dropped Dean to his knees with one well-placed elbow if he wanted to, but he didn't. Sam sat there on his knees, panting, trembling, and as Dean watched, angled his backside out toward him more and leaned his head back to feel Dean's fingers between the elephant hair and his skin.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean groaned and rubbed his stinging hand over his own cock to relieve the pressure. He pulled him back again to look down his chest and slipped his hand around his brother's hip to wrap around his length and squeeze.

Sam keened, the sound filling the room with the feel of Dean's hand on him. He threw his head back onto his brother's shoulder and gasped for breath. "Dean!" It always overwhelmed him when Dean took control like this and he loved it with nothing to focus on but how his brother made him feel.

"You know what I wanna do after this job, little brother?" Dean asked him softly and stroked him slowly. "Wanna take you back to the club."

"Fuck!" Sam shouted it and came with memories of that night playing through his mind - chained in front of an audience and being so thoroughly owned by his brother.

Dean moaned, rubbing against his brother's ass and stroked him through the orgasm he'd expected until Sam was a shuddering, whimpering mess resting against his chest. He mouthed along his shoulder, dragging his teeth over Sam's heated, glistening flesh and smiled. "Not done with you yet, little brother. Haven't heard you beg yet."

Sam moaned happily and let Dean move him wherever he wanted him, turning and lying on his back on the bed again and squirmed as come cooled on his chest and stomach.

Dean wanted to tie him down. He wanted to see his brother tied to the four corners of that big bed, at his mercy and begging, but there was no way he'd risk that in a haunted building. No way would he leave Sam helplessly bound when there was something around that wanted to hurt them and could take him out with one well-aimed piece of flying furniture, leaving Sam unable to defend himself. He was taking enough of a chance already making him boneless with sex but figured if something DID happen, the adrenaline rush would probably get his brother back on his feet in a hurry. But what he couldn't do with rope, he could do with words.

He pulled Sam down to the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs, bending Sam's knees until his feet were up on the bed and his cock and ass were right there at the edge. "Hold your knees, Sam," Dean ordered and bit the inside of his thigh, loving the needy gasp Sam gave him. "If you let go, you won't get to come at all today." Dean blew a breath up Sam's still twitching cock. "I'll get your plug," he told him. "And that little egg I picked up last week." He grinned when Sam's body jerked with his words. "What do you think, Sam? You wanna spend all day with the plug holding that egg inside you, vibrating just enough to drive you mad but not enough to make you come?"

"N-no," Sam gasped and looked up pleadingly. "Please, Dean. Fuck! Please?"

Dean chuckled darkly. "Oh, you haven't started to beg yet." He leaned in and licked over Sam's hole and Sam's body jerked off the bed with a shout. Dean watched Sam's hands clench on his knees but he kept them in place with what he was sure was a monumental effort. "Good boy."

Sam was gasping for breath and Dean had only just started. His back arched up as he felt Dean's tongue lick over him again and press inside him while the brim of the cowboy hat brushed over his cock. "Fuck!"

Dean hummed, knowing how the vibration affected Sam and then sealed his mouth around him, sucking and thrusting his tongue inside to get him good and wet while Sam went wild on the bed. Dean loved taking him apart like this. He loved making Sam feel so much pleasure he just couldn't control himself anymore. Dean had to wrap his fingers around the base of his own cock to keep from coming just listening to him.

He leaned back and looked up Sam's body to watch him gasping and whimpering. "Ok, Sammy?" He grinned when Sam brought his head up enough to nod before dropping it back. Dean leaned back in and pushed his tongue into Sam again but this time he slid a finger alongside his tongue to pull and stretch.

Sam tossed his head, moaning and biting his lip to try and maintain some control, but Dean made it damn difficult. His spent cock got back in the game faster than he'd thought possible, and the need to come was starting to flow through him again. "God…Dean! I need…"

"What do you need, Sammy?" Dean leaned back and pushed three fingers into him, loving the arc of Sam's chest in reaction.

"You…Dean, please." Sam picked his head up again to look frantically down at him. "Want you in me."

Dean groaned loudly, his control on a thin, fraying thread, and got to his feet. He took Sam's thighs, pulled him forward a little more and rocked them back into his chest.

Sam looked desperately up at his brother as Dean gave him another heated look from under the brim of his hat and then he felt Dean's cock pushing inside him. It rocked his head back on a strangled cry of pleasure as Dean shoved all the way in and bottomed out.

"Holy…fuck!" Dean gasped and put his own head back to savor the feeling for a moment. He changed his mind then and pulled back out fast enough he made his own head spin and Sam whimpered with the loss. He pulled and rolled Sam to his stomach. "Knees, Sam. Now."

Sam struggled to make his over-sensitized body obey and got up on his hands and knees. He shouted when Dean slammed back into him and then whined as Dean's hand spanked hard into him again. "Fuck!"

Dean nodded, growling possessively and dropped slap after slap to the soft skin of his brother's ass until both cheeks were reddened and warm on the inside of his hips each time he drove into him. "Fucking love this," Dean gasped. "Love you. God, Sammy!" He was so close to coming and he wanted Sam to come with him. He spread Sam's cheeks and moved his hands in, pressing his thumbs in to either side of his cock.

"Ah…GOD!" Sam yelled it and didn't give a damn who heard him with Dean opening him up even wider, with his cock hitting his sweet spot on every thrust, the heat of the skin on his backside. Dean pulled out and drove back into him so hard he pushed Sam down onto his stomach and hit his prostate. Sam came untouched with a scream.

Dean put his hands to the back of Sam's shoulders and pumped in and out of him while Sam writhed and shouted underneath him. His muscles clamped down around Dean's cock and he came hard enough to see spots, shouting along with Sam, then gasping and collapsing over his back. "Holy…shit," Dean wheezed, shifted his hips to ease out of his brother and slid a little off to his side.

Sam nodded and turned his head to face his brother in a silent plea.

Dean chuckled breathlessly and leaned in to kiss Sam, feeling him smile against his lips. He rubbed a hand up and down his back and tried to find the energy to get up, clean him up, and get both their asses moving again for the day.

"Love you, Dean," Sam said in a hoarse voice and grinned, licking along Dean's bottom lip so his brother moaned. "Carry me?"

Dean snorted and slapped Sam's ass, smiling cheerfully when he jerked and hissed at the impact over flesh left red from Dean's earlier ministrations. "Come on. We got a murderer to go talk to."

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_To Be Continued… _


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author**: Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info**: A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: The boys…just keep getting distracted. What am I gonna do with them? :P

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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_Dean put his hands to the back of Sam's shoulders and pumped in and out of him while Sam writhed and shouted underneath him. His muscles clamped down around Dean's cock and he came hard enough to see spots, shouting along with Sam, then gasping and collapsing over his back. "Holy…shit," Dean wheezed, shifted his hips to ease out of his brother and slid a little off to his side._

_Sam nodded and turned his head to face his brother in a silent plea._

_Dean chuckled breathlessly and leaned in to kiss Sam, feeling him smile against his lips. He rubbed a hand up and down his back and tried to find the energy to get up, clean him up and get both their asses moving again for the day._

"_Love you, Dean," Sam said in a hoarse voice and grinned, licking along Dean's bottom lip so his brother moaned. "Carry me?"_

_Dean snorted and slapped Sam's ass, smiling cheerfully when he jerked and hissed at the impact over flesh left red from Dean's earlier ministrations. "Come on. We got a murderer to go talk to."_

**Chapter 6**

Sam stood outside Thomas Clearwater's house and felt righteous anger curling through him. It was a lovely, three-story house set on an acre of prime property….that had once belonged to Grady Peterson until his house burned and his son died. The man had murdered two people just over a piece of land, and Sam…was feeling a little irrational about it and doing his very best to keep a lid on it and not let Dean know just how strongly he was being affected. He knew it was because the spirit of Grady Peterson had been in his head and because Sam had felt the man burn. He shook himself and started around the car along with his brother.

"I don't see any cars," Sam commented and thought he'd done a fair job of sounding perfectly calm as they climbed the steps of the porch to the door. "Maybe he's not home."

Dean looked over and slid one hand up Sam's back to press on the collar. "Dude, this 'cause the ghost shared his death with your or something?" He raised a brow at the surprise on his brother's face. "You are wound up like you're ready to explode, Sam. Get a handle on this or we're leaving."

"I'm fine." Sam assured him and shrugged the hand off his shoulder irritably as the front door opened, unaware of the concern on his brother's face when he did. "Hello. I'm Agent Wakeman. This is my partner Agent Butler. FBI. We'd like to speak to Thomas Clearwater." Sam smiled tightly for the fifty-something man in the door, looking up at them from behind thick glasses.

"What the hell the feds want with me?" Thomas Clearwater pushed his glasses up his nose and frowned.

Dean looked at the man who appeared harmless with the knowledge he'd burned two people and could see a hint of that cruelty around the eyes behind his glasses, but he wanted to be sure. "We have some questions about the deaths of Grady Peterson and his son, James." Dean's eyes narrowed as he saw it - the slightest flinch and the guilt that slid into the man's eyes before being carefully wiped away.

"Don't know nothin' about that. Why's the federal government care about an accident? And the police said Grady ran off somewhere." Thomas shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, no. He's dead." Sam said firmly and even he could hear the thread of anger in his voice.

Dean's worry went up another notch and he surreptitiously put a hand to the back of his brother's neck again. "We've heard some disturbing rumors of your involvement."

Thomas looked at them and sneered a little. "If he is dead, there ain't a thing you can prove. Don't know why you'd bother talking to me."

Sam vibrated with a sudden rage and then felt Dean's fingers push against the collar at the back of his neck. His fingers slid under the dark band, brushing up against Sam's skin, and Sam was forced to suck in a breath as the collar tugged firmly against the front of his throat. For a moment, he forgot to breathe and had to concentrate to keep the sudden burst of need off his face and get his breath back.

Dean smirked, knowing exactly how the simple gesture had affected his brother, and fixed his attention on Thomas. "Let's start with when you burned the poor bastard's son alive in the house that used to be standing right where we are." He could sense Sam tensing up again and he tightened his fingers in the back of Sam's collar, glad his dress shirt and tie hid it easily, and saw Sam swallow hard from the corner of his eye.

Sam was grateful for Dean's distraction. The burst of lust was enough to help him back off the alien rage that had been swelling up through him. He took a deep steadying breath and closed his eyes for a moment while Dean had the man's attention. He snapped his eyes open suddenly and looked up at the house, as though he could see through the porch roof. Sam could sense someone watching from inside the house and he knew instinctively that it was Grady Peterson's son. His spirit was haunting the house.

"Dean," Sam said softly and looked over at him.

Dean saw his brother pale and watched the look of…shock sweep over his face and frowned. "Mr. Clearwater, you should know that when we find what we're looking for, you're gonna be doing a long stint in prison for two murders."

"You won't find a damn thing." Thomas smirked and took hold of his door. "No body, agent. No crime."

Dean snarled as the man stepped back and slammed the door shut. "Sam, what the hell's up with you?" He tugged sharply on the collar again, making sure Sam was paying attention.

Sam shook his head and then blew out a breath, giving Dean a soft smile as they turned and came down off the porch. "That's…surprisingly effective." He raised a hand and brushed the collar himself through the front of his shirt.

Dean snorted with satisfaction and humor when they reached the car and then fixed Sam with a worried stare. "You wanna tell me what the hell was goin' on?"

Sam climbed into the Impala and looked up at the house as Dean got in beside him and started up the car. "Grady's son…his ghost. He's in there."

"What?" Dean leaned down to look up at the house and groaned. "Damn."

"I could feel Grady's rage," Sam said softly and leaned back in the seat as they pulled away from the house. "Like he was still in my head or something. It was…weird."

Dean whipped his head over. "He's possessing you?" That was a whole new level of screwed he didn't even want to consider, but now he had to and knew that Bobby was getting a call as soon as they stopped.

"It's not possession," Sam assured him and rubbed his fingers between his eyes to relieve a sudden headache. "It's more like….he left some of his rage behind." He looked back up and watched the Clearwater house dwindle in the rearview mirror. "God, Dean. I wanted to…I wanted to kill him." He shivered.

Dean clenched his jaw and headed for town. "So, no leaving you alone with the pyromaniac killer." He put a hand over the back of the seat and inside Sam's collar again, needing the contact as his fingers slid against Sam's skin and the braided elephant hair.

"I'm alright, Dean." Sam looked over and gave him a smile and leaned back into the comforting touch. "We need to call Bobby."

Dean nodded. "We're gonna grab something to eat and call him before we go back to the tavern." He drove back into town and left Sam in the car while he ran into a diner to grab some take-out. Dean parked along the park across from the tavern and led Sam out onto the grass to a picnic table under a tree. They sat and ate companionably for a few minutes while they both looked at the Talbott tavern.

Sam sighed, shaking tension out of his shoulders and took out his phone. "You know, I really don't want to have to send all the spirits in there on if we don't have to."

Dean nodded and smirked. "Me neither. I wanna have a drink with Jesse James again, dude."

Sam chuckled and brushed Dean's leg under the table with his foot. "Bring the hat."

Dean barked a laugh and bit into his burger while Sam dialed Bobby. "Mmf…s'good hat."

"Dude, don't talk with your mouth full." Sam rolled his eyes and put the phone to his ear. "It's disgusting."

"Your face is disgusting."

"Oh, real mature, Dean."

"Sam, dammit. D'you call just to let me listen to you two idjits snark at each other?" Bobby's voice carried out of the phone and Sam jumped.

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Hey, Bobby. Sorry."

"Uh huh." Bobby rolled his eyes fondly. "Whatcha need, Sam? How's the ghost hunt goin'?"

Sam quickly filled him in on all that had happened and pushed his salad away, no longer hungry as he recounted the burning deaths of Grady and his son. "First thing we need, though, is some way to keep the spirits out of our room."

Dean reached over and plucked the phone from his brother's hand. He grinned at Sam's angry glare and put it to his own ear. "Hey, Bobby. We woke up this mornin' with a ghost chick rocking in our room. Salt lines ain't doin' it."

"Balls." Bobby groaned. "I was hoping that wouldn't happen. Ok. Put Sam back on the phone and I'll give him a list unless you wanna write it all down." He chuckled and listened to Dean toss the phone back to his brother. "That's what I thought. Sam?"

"Yeah, Bobby." Sam smiled and pulled his notepad and pen out of the suit jacket, scribbling down a hasty list of ingredients and instructions. "This will keep them out of our room?"

"Temporarily, at least." Bobby warned. "You'll have to make another of these bags every couple days or so. They don't last and you don't know it's gone off 'til some pissed off spirit shows up to give ya' hell."

Sam smirked. "Ok, thanks, Bobby."

"Gimme the phone back." Dean reached over and snarled when Sam grinned and kept it out of his reach.

Sam chuckled and turned away. "We found out the murdered man's son is haunting his murderer's house too."

"Damn." Bobby breathed and shook his head. "He dangerous? Somehow I don't think your killer's just gonna invite you boys in to…Sam?" He broke off as he heard Sam yelp as Dean laughed, and rolled his eyes before slapping a hand to his head when Dean's voice came over the phone.

"Bobby, I got another question…knock it off, bitch." Dean wrapped his free arm around Sam's back and held him tightly. He'd come around the picnic table and manhandled his brother into his lap. Sam straddled him now with Dean pinning him to his chest and ducked his head into Sam's shirt with a snort while his brother squirmed. "That ghost that knocked Sam on his ass left something in his head other than memories." He propped the phone to his ear so he could have both hands and slid one down Sam's backside to press between the cheeks of his ass and Sam stilled with a little, pleased gasp. Dean grinned. "He dumped his rage or whatever off on Sam while he was at it. I gotta be worried about this?" Dean bit his lip to hold in a moan as Sam suddenly ground his hips into Dean's, rubbing their cocks together.

Sam chuckled softly and looked down at Dean. He put his mouth to the ear Dean wasn't using and bit along the lobe then sucked it into his mouth and moaned softly. He felt the breath stutter in Dean's chest against his and his big brother's hips lurch up into his and gave his own grin. If Dean wanted to play dirty, he could do that. He scratched his nails through Dean's hair at the back of his head and bit behind his ear.

"Son'fa…uh, what Bobby?" Dean slammed his eyes closed as Sam sucked at his neck. "Dropped the uh…the phone. What'd you say?"

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose for patience and to wipe the mental image out of his head because his boys obviously didn't realize how sensitive the speaker on the phone was; he'd heard Sam moan softly. He snorted. "Unless Sam decides to go on a killin' spree, I think you're good. Just…take care of your brother, Dean." He snapped the phone closed before they traumatized him further and laughed.

Dean let Sam's phone drop with a clatter off the bench and into the grass and wrapped both hands around his ass. "You know I'm gonna make you…shit…make you pay for this right?" He tilted his head back so Sam could bite at his jaw and groaned.

Sam chuckled and ground down against him. "You took my phone." He gasped as Dean wrapped his fingers around the back of his collar and pulled. He let it tug against the front of his throat for a moment while he watched Dean's eyes darken and panted short breaths. "Fuck."

Dean groaned loudly and thumped his head into his brother's chest. "If it weren't broad fuckin' daylight, I'd toss your ass over this picnic table right now." He smirked as Sam shuddered in his lap and gave the collar another tug.

"Wild Irish lace," Sam gasped and leaned back enough to meet the confused look in Dean's eyes. "Gotta…we need a field."

Dean growled and pressed Sam harder into him. "We're goin' for a drive. Now."

Sam nodded and scraped his nails over one of Dean's nipples through his shirt, making the older man quiver. "Right now."

Dean stood and let Sam's legs fall to the ground with a grin. He palmed Sam's cock, making him moan and shake with need. "Don't forget your phone."

Sam swayed as Dean strutted off toward the car, then hastily scooped his phone from the grass and jogged after him. He had to adjust himself in the dress pants and grinned when Dean looked back and missed a step.

"Those pants, uh…" Dean licked his lips as Sam reached the car. "…they don't hide much."

Sam chuckled and pulled open the passenger door, brushing a hand over the crotch of Dean's tented dress slacks and nodded. "I noticed."

Dean adjusted himself and went around to the driver's side, walking stiffly for the erection trying to jump out of his damn pants. "Gotta steal his phone more often," He said with a grin and climbed into the Impala.

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Dean leaned against the side of the Impala and watched his brother, twenty feet away, kneeling in the long weeds of the field and collecting stupid plants. He smirked and looked up and down the lonely dirt road, pleased with where they were, and decided that after the stress of the visit to Thomas Clearwater…and having Sam attack his damn neck on the phone…they could take a little break to work off some anxiety. He let his eyes drink in Sam when he stood. He'd shucked the suit jacket off in the car and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows with sweat sticking the thin material to his chest. Sam had opened half the buttons and the halves of the shirt parted just right over his bronzed skin, showing the dark brown of the collar at his throat. Dean swallowed with need as Sam walked back to him with a bunch of white tipped, flowery looking weeds in one hand.

"Got 'em." Sam held up his haul and climbed back up to the car with a smile for Dean beside the Impala's open trunk. He grinned when Dean reached out and took hold of his waist, pulling their hips in together.

"Do you know how fuckin' tasty you look right now?" Dean growled and took Sam's mouth in a heated kiss that made the younger moan.

Sam chuckled and tipped his head back, letting Dean lick and bite his neck above the choker. He nodded. "Starting to…get a…an idea. Damn."

"Love that you never take this off," Dean growled possessively into Sam's throat and turned him, walking him backward to the trunk while he pulled Sam's shirt from his slacks and finished unbuttoning it. He pushed it back off his shoulders and down his arms. Dean backed him to the open trunk and ran a hand down Sam's bare left arm to his wrist. He curled his fingers around it, turned Sam to face the car and stretched his arm up to one corner.

Sam looked over in surprise when he felt leather brush his wrist and stared while lust pooled in his belly. "When…when did you install those?" A leather cuff hung just inside the corner of the trunk lid on either side.

Dean chuckled softly and belted Sam's wrist in then took his other hand and pulled that one to the other side. "I get up to all kinds of things when I'm bored." He strapped Sam's other wrist in and pulled on the trunk, giving it a test but it stayed solidly up. He checked the lengths of pipe he'd propped on either side to make sure they were secure and then stood back to look at him. "Holy shit…that is…" he pressed a hand over his own, now bulging cock and groaned. "That's fuckin' hot as hell. Wow."

Sam's breath stuttered in his lungs as he looked over his shoulder and caught the expression on his brother's face. He gave his wrists a pull, enjoying that there was so little give. "This is like…Dean Christmas isn't it?"

"Mah baby tied to mah baby," Dean said in a low voice and stepped back into him. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Sam chuckled and then tossed his head back with a gasp as Dean reached around and rubbed the heel of his hand up and down his cock through his thin slacks. "Shit!"

Dean hummed and opened Sam's slacks. He pushed them down his hips to pool at his feet. Dean knelt and pulled Sam's shoes off, taking the last of his clothes with them, leaving his brother naked with his bronzed, muscled back gleaming in the sun. He stood back up and stripped off his own jacket and shirt then pressed himself to Sam's skin. "Gonna make you scream before we go back, Sammy."

Sam dropped his forehead to the smooth metal of the trunk lid with a groan.

Dean grinned hungrily and moved to his side. He reached down to a towel spread across the top of the hidden compartment and flipped the edge back. "First I'm gonna make you beg though."

The spit dried in Sam's mouth when he looked down and watched Dean pick up a cock ring. Beside it lay the black butt plug Sam had once bought with the letter 'D' in gold on its end, a bottle of lube, and…Sam licked his lips…a flogger. "Oh, fuck."

"Oh, yeah." Dean stroked Sam's cock a few times until his brother's hips started to twitch and then he clasped the ring around the base, watching it swell and the tip leak. He took the plug and the lube and moved around behind Sam while his little brother whimpered. He knelt again, mouthing gentle kisses to his back over the bruises he was going to be very careful to avoid and slipped the plug into his back pocket while he opened the lube and spread Sam's cheeks.

"Ah…god…fuck, Dean!" Sam moaned. He whimpered and bit his bottom lip as two slick fingers pushed into him. "Dean!"

"Begging already, little brother?" Dean growled and worked his fingers inside him. The muscles clenched and opened for him, letting him slide his fingers up and crook them. He searched for and found what he was looking for when Sam shouted and writhed against the car. "Fuck, I love that sound."

Sam panted for breath as the stars cleared from his vision, and then Dean pressed his fingers into his sweet spot again. He moaned and hitched his backside out further as he felt the tip of the plug and gave a long, stuttered filthy groan as Dean eased it into him, forcing him open further with a delicious burn of pain/pleasure.

Dean bit at one of Sam's cheeks and wished he could spend all day like this, making Sam whine desperately. He rocked the plug in and out of him, smiling at his initial as he always did, until Sam was bucking his hips back onto it, seeking more. He shoved it home a last time, making sure to find Sam's prostate and held it there, pushing on that spot as he rose and took hold of Sam's collar to pull it and his head back.

Sam cried out as his legs trembled. If not for the ring, he'd have been coming right then from the pleasure that slammed through him in waves. "DEAN!"

Dean moaned and let go of the plug. He slid his hand up from the collar into Sam's hair, tangling his fingers there and pulled roughly, earning another cry of need from him. He twisted his fingers deeper, gathering up more and pulled again, holding until Sam's face was looking straight up with his throat invitingly stretched in front of Dean, Adam's apple bobbing spasmodically as he gulped in what air he could.

"Love you like this," Dean said huskily into his ear and then closed his mouth over Sam's throat, sucking hard before he leaned back to just listen to him whimper. "Fuck, Sammy." He soothed his hand through his hair and let Sam rest his forehead on the trunk while Dean ran his fingers tenderly up and down his chest.

Sam struggled to breathe properly as Dean changed up the tempo from hot and rough to tender and loving, confusing his already overloaded system with the feathery trace of his fingers over his chest and stomach, down his thighs, and back up to curve around his jaw and turn his head.

"Kiss me, Sam," Dean told him and took his mouth in a heated kiss that made him consider giving in and buying a cock ring for himself. Sam's whimpers as he kissed him made Dean's cock jump painfully in his pants.

"Want you…" Sam mumbled in a broken voice against Dean's lips.

"What do you want, Sammy?" Dean licked Sam's bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth while he ran one teasing finger down his stomach and over his straining dick. "Tell me."

"Want…" Sam swallowed hard and opened his eyes to meet Dean's glittering, hungry gaze. He dropped his eyes into the trunk and looked back up as the expression in Dean's eyes became predatory. "Flog me."

"Fu-uck," Dean surged forward and took control of Sam's mouth, licking in to tangle their tongues, clicking their teeth together and groaned a breath into him. His fingers found the flogger and he pulled it out before letting Sam's mouth go and moving behind him again. "The things you do to me…Jesus." He tore open the fly of his own slacks, kicked off his shoes and let them fall to step out of them before he drew the soft leather straps of the flogger back and let them fly.

Sam shouted at the first bite of pain across the cheeks of his ass and gasped. "Har…harder. Fuck, Dean…harder!"

Dean had to bite his lip and clamp a hand around his cock, nearly coming with Sam begging so prettily. "Fuck…son of a…" He took a few deep breaths and struck with the flogger again. He carefully stayed away from Sam's back and the bruises there, striking his ass and the tops of his thighs. He landed a few blows to the end of the plug and after a few minutes, Sam was close to screaming, pulling at the wrist restraints and had his legs spread wide just to stay on his feet. Dean tossed the flogger into the trunk and ran a wondering hand over the now warm flesh of Sam's backside with a low groan.

He pressed his body into Sam's, reveling in the feel of their skin together and kissed at his neck while Sam's chest heaved for air. "Ok, little brother?"

Sam nodded frantically and pushed his hips back into Dean's. "Please….god, Dean…please, please…need you in me." He was on the edge of tears from the pleasure, his cock was painfully hard and he knew when he came, it was going to be overwhelming enough to hurt. "Need you to fuck me. Dean, please!"

"Shh." Dean soothed and curved a hand over the front of Sam's throat and the collar, just holding him while he kissed behind his ear. "I've got you, Sammy." He found the lube with his other hand and quickly slicked his own cock before pressing between Sam's cheeks. "Wanna do this again." He licked the outer shell of Sam's ear. "Can I?"

"Oh, God…God, yes. Yes!" Sam was vibrating with desperate need and felt the first, traitorous tear roll down his cheek as the head of Dean's cock forced its way into him alongside the plug. "FUCK!" He screamed it as Dean suddenly pushed his entire length into him, splitting him wide around the plug and pounded into his prostate.

Dean had to stop for a moment and rest his head on the back of Sam's neck while he fought his own orgasm back, wanting to have at least a few more minutes to listen to Sam go to pieces for him. He pulled out, keeping the plug inside his brother with his knuckles and slammed home again so Sam shouted and jerked against him. He let go of Sam's neck and grabbed his thigh, picking up his leg and propping his right foot on the fender. Both men groaned brokenly as it deepened the angle and forced Dean's cock a little deeper without him even moving.

Dean started a rhythm, rocking the plug with each thrust so it rubbed his cock inside Sam. And Sam…Sam was shaking and writhing with his hands fisted and his head dropped back onto Dean's shoulder as he cried out again and again with each push of Dean inside him. "Gonna come for me, Sammy?" He asked breathlessly and rubbed his cheek against his brother's, feeling the wet of tears there.

Sam nodded and whined shamelessly while Dean dragged slowly out of him with the plug and then both slammed back in. "FUCK!" he yelled again, bereft of any other words as the pleasure overwhelmed him, so open and vulnerable in the position Dean had him. He sobbed for breath when Dean's hand closed around his cock. Dean fucked in and out of him again then slammed home inside him so hard their hips slapped together and he flicked open the ring. Sam came screaming and would have banged his head on the trunk had Dean not wrapped his fingers over his forehead to keep him safe.

"Son of a…SAM!" Dean gave his own scream of pleasure as Sam came over his hand in hot, wet jets and his cock was trapped in a fluttering vice of muscle. He came rolling the plug against them both and his back arched into Sam as he held him and shouted again into his neck. He dug his teeth into his neck, marking him and finally the orgasm eased enough for him to breathe harshly against his brother's skin. He grunted when Sam's legs crumpled, slipping out of Sam and then chuckling as he fought to hold him upright. "Sam?" He reached out and unclasped Sam's left arm, laughing softly and breathlessly as it dropped and hitched him a little higher while he unhooked his other arm.

Dean kissed his senseless brother's forehead and bent, grunting again as he picked him up in his arms and carried him around the side of the car. He got the back door open and sat with Sam in his lap. Dean eased into the back seat and stretched Sam out with him as he leaned against the far door and wrapped his arms around him. He tipped Sam's head back so he could kiss him and stroked gentle circles on his chest.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean whispered with a smile. "Time to come back from the awesome orgasm."

Sam moaned softly and his eyes fluttered open in a daze to find that he was lying down inside the car in the warm circle of his brother's arms. He smiled and nuzzled his nose under Dean's jaw, still loathe to move.

Dean chuckled and brushed his fingers over Sam's drying cheeks. "All good?"

Sam hummed into his throat while sleep tried to claim him, not caring that his legs were hanging out the door. "Mmm hmm."

Dean shook his head fondly and decided they could take a while longer. It was still early afternoon. They had plenty of time to get back and deal with the pissed off ghost. "Love you, Sammy," He said softly into Sam's sweat-damp hair.

"Love you." Sam slurred and let himself fall asleep, trusting Dean to wake him and not let him sleep the day away, but his body felt so pleasantly used, he was in no hurry to move again and fell asleep with Dean's cheek brushing through his hair and his hand pressed over his heart.

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_To Be Continued… _


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: Just when you think you've got a foolproof plan…

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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"_Come on, Sammy." Dean whispered with a smile. "Time to come back from the awesome orgasm."_

_Sam moaned softly and his eyes fluttered open in a daze to find that he was lying down inside the car in the warm circle of his brother's arms. He smiled and nuzzled his nose under Dean's jaw, still loathe to move._

_Dean chuckled brushed his fingers over Sam's drying cheeks. "All good?"_

_Sam hummed into his throat while sleep tried to claim him, not caring that his legs were hanging out the door. "Mmm hmm."_

_Dean shook his head fondly and decided they could take a while more. It was still early afternoon. They had plenty of time to get back and deal with the pissed off ghost. "Love you, Sammy," He said softly into Sam's sweat-damp hair._

"_Love you." Sam slurred and let himself fall asleep, trusting Dean to wake him and not let him sleep the day away but his body felt so pleasantly used, he was in no hurry to move again and fell asleep with Dean's cheek brushing through his hair and his hand pressed over his heart._

**Chapter 7**

Sam leaned across the front seat of the Impala, head resting on his brother's shoulder as they drove, and sighed. He didn't want to go back to the tavern and have to face the ghost again. He wanted to just bundle Dean off somewhere else, somewhere not haunted, and spend a few days naked and lazy. He smirked. Well, not lazy exactly.

"What are you smilin' about?" Dean asked as he glanced down and saw the look on his brother's face.

Sam rolled his eyes up to him and shrugged. "Just how much I'd like to find somewhere peaceful to stretch you over a pool table." He grinned when Dean shuddered and moaned softly.

"You need to not say shit like that to me while I'm driving, dude." Dean grinned and took his right hand off the wheel to wrap his arm around his brother. "I don't really want to go back to the tavern either."

Sam chuckled and pressed a kiss into Dean's neck fondly for the brother who seemed to always know what was going through his head. "Grady deserves to be at rest. I wonder if his son will go on his own once we send his father on?"

"Maybe," Dean nodded, though he knew at some point they'd be digging up the son's grave just to be sure. He turned at the park and drove along the front of the Talbott tavern and felt a heaviness settle over him. It worried him how far the ghost had managed to get inside his brother's head. He'd never seen Sam that close to killing a human before, and Dean felt sure that if he hadn't been there, Thomas Clearwater would have been dead in his own damn door. "You sure you got everything you need to make those gris-gris bags of Bobby's?"

Sam nodded. "We brought all the stuff with us in case we had to cleanse the building." He smiled and kissed Dean's neck again. "Just needed the wild Irish lace to finish it off."

Dean chuckled while he parked and turned, seeing the parking lot was empty. He curved a hand around his brother's jaw and kissed him. He tangled tongues with Sam, filling the car with soft moans and sighs and finally let him go with a smile. "Let's get to work."

Sam smiled and climbed out of the car. He stopped to stretch, raising his arms high over his head and smirked when he caught Dean just watching him. "No, Dean."

"What?" Dean asked innocently and turned away, rubbing a hand down the front of his jeans to relieve the sudden pressure. "Kid's gonna kill me," he grumbled and popped the trunk.

Sam chuckled and pulled the slightly crushed bunch of weeds from the trunk while Dean grabbed the bag that held the gris-gris bag components. "I'm gonna make three of these to start," Sam said as they walked up the stone walk to the tavern. "One for our room and the other two for us to carry. Hopefully, they'll let us search that cellar without getting jumped."

"Nice." Dean pushed open the door and it was a little odd to see and hear the place so empty in the middle of the day. "Wonder what the range on them is?"

"I'm going to guess not far since Bobby didn't seem concerned with them interfering with the rest of the spirits here." Sam felt instantly on edge as he stepped back into the tavern and shook himself to try and dispel the feeling. He followed his brother to the stairs and rolled his eyes when Dean waved him ahead, obviously trying to make sure Sam didn't take another header down the stairs for any reason. He let Dean have that one because he knew what it would have done to him to come back and be told Dean had nearly died.

"This place is kinda creepy when it's silent like this," Dean observed and reached up, pinching his brother's ass above him where he knew he'd gotten him good with the flogger. Sam gasped, moaned, and turned to glare at him while Dean chuckled. "That sounds better."

"Saving people. Hunting things. Homicidal ghost on the loose." Sam rubbed his backside and rolled his eyes yet again. "Any of this ringing any bells for you, Dean?" He snorted then as Dean's hand landed in a slap on his other cheek. "Time and a place, big brother."

"Just takin' my kicks where I can get 'em, Sammy." Dean chuckled and followed him through the tavern to their room.

It was companionable, sitting on the long couch in the sitting room while Sam divvied up ingredients and Dean wrapped them in the little bags. Sam smiled, watching Dean tie twine around the tops of the bags with his tongue between his teeth and a look of concentration on his face.

"Stop starin' at me," Dean groused, feeling his brother's eyes on him and gave him a sidelong glance as he finished a knot and tossed the bag to the table.

Sam shrugged and finished the third bag. He smirked and stood. "Can't help it. You're funny looking." He tucked the gris-gris bag into his pocket and easily danced away from the slap Dean aimed at him.

"Pain in my ass, Sammy," Dean growled, but he smiled and pushed his own bag into his shirt. He took the third and stood, going to the bedroom and set it on the table next to the door behind a vase of flowers. "Grab the shotguns and a shovel. We're gonna go find this asshole."

Sam picked up the weapons bag and slung it over his shoulder. "He's a murder victim," he said sadly. "Poor guy probably has no idea what's even happening to him."

"Still an asshole," Dean said firmly. "You know my rule about anything that takes a shot at you."

Sam laughed and opened the door. "Yeah, I do." It warmed him and scared him in equal measure, the things his brother would do to protect him.

Adele was waiting for them when they reached the kitchen and she smiled at them. "Dave said you two were back. I have to head home." She rolled her eyes. "Dave won't let me stay to cook for you boys, but there's a pot of chicken soup and another of goulash in the fridge over there." She patted Dean's arm. "You already know where I keep the bread."

Dean grinned and pulled her into a one-armed hug, making her snort. "Adele, you're the best. I don't care what Sam says about you."

"Hey!" Sam protested and found himself being hugged by the smaller woman. He chuckled. "Dean's an ass."

"And you love him. Now…" Adele gave him a final squeeze and stepped back from them. "…do your ghostbusting thing or whatever it is you do so I can get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am." Dean grinned and saluted her as she left. "I like her. She cooks."

Sam snorted and went to the cellar door, tugging it open. There was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass from below and then everything went silent. "Think that was our spirit being shoved off by the charms."

"Friggin hope so," Dean said darkly. He moved ahead of his brother and went down the stairs. "Shotgun."

Sam pulled it out of the bag along with his own and passed it down. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "I think they're working. I don't…feel anything down here."

"Don't poke at your shining, dude," Dean warned and flicked a glance back at him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "I already don't like that a ghost's tapped into your psychic friggin' network."

"I wasn't poking." Sam peered around the bottom of the stairs and his eyes widened. "Whoa."

Dean groaned. "Aw, man! That is a waste of good liquor!" Dozens of bottles of bourbon were smashed on the floor from a shelf tipped to its side. The whole cellar smelled like a distillery. As they walked down the aisle, crunching over the broken glass, it was powerful enough to make their eyes water.

"Dave's gonna be pissed," Sam commented and coughed, clearing his throat from the powerful smell. "Smells like you the morning after in Vegas."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean smirked and pulled open the narrow door to the old root cellar. "Lights are still on. That's a good sign."

"Are we just gonna dig random holes until we find his bones?" Sam walked cautiously into the long room as if waiting to be thrown from his feet again and scuffed his shoe at the hard-packed earth. Dean shrugged.

"Short of bringing one of those ground penetrating radar things down here, we'll just have to get lucky." Dean went to the bag when Sam tossed it on top of a crate and pulled out the shovel, setting his shotgun down. "I'll dig first. You make sure nothing hinkey happens."

Sam nodded and moved to one of the walls where he could see the whole room. "Too bad we can't just ask him."

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Dean flopped onto the bed next to his brother with a groan and tossed his damp towel to the floor. The shower hadn't made him feel any less sore from hours of digging test holes and they'd only searched maybe a quarter of the long root cellar.

"This is gonna take forever." Dean looked over at Sam who'd landed face-first in his pillow when they got back and was still there. He smirked and slapped him in the ass. "Go shower. You stink."

Sam moaned wearily and rolled his face out of the pillow. "Not moving again." The digging, after he'd taken over for his brother, had left his bruised back aching anew and he grumbled when Dean poked him in the side.

"Gettin' dirt all over the bed, dude. Shower." Dean smiled mischievously and poked his brother in the side until he finally rolled off the bed to stand.

"Jerk," Sam scowled at him and stripped out of his clothes stiffly.

Dean frowned. "How bad _is_ your back?" He felt a twinge of guilt, worried that their play earlier in the day had aggravated it, but Sam smiled.

"It's fine, Dean. I'm just sore from digging." Sam raised a brow and dropped his jeans. "And only digging." He strode to the bathroom naked, swaying his hips for effect with Dean's throaty laugh behind him.

Dean laid back and chuckled, stretching and bending his arms behind his head as he heard the shower come on and closed his eyes. "That radar's sounding pretty damn good right now," he grumbled and let himself drift tiredly while the shower ran.

Sam stood in the claw-footed tub with the shower curtain pulled around it and turned his head up to the shower head above him with a little smile. Because it was in the ceiling, it was actually over his head for a change and meant he didn't have to duck to get wet. Even so late in the day, the water was still blissfully hot because there were no other guests in the tavern. He groaned happily and let the steaming water run down his back to soothe the aching muscles. He only shut off the water once it started to run cold, figuring he'd been in there for a half an hour and smirked as he came out of the bathroom and found Dean sleeping on his back with his arms folded behind his head.

Sam's stomach grumbled at him and he thought about the food Adele had mentioned. He went to his bag and pulled out clean clothes, dressing quickly now that his back wasn't protesting so much. He considered waking Dean but grabbed the notepad from the nightstand instead, scrawling a hasty note that he was in the kitchen getting food.

"Don't go anywhere," Sam said softly with a smile, taking a moment to run a finger lightly down his brother's naked chest and smiled more widely at the soft, barely-heard moan he earned. He got off the bed before he was tempted to wake Dean with something other than food and left, making sure to pocket a gris-gris bag on his way.

The tavern was silent on his way down the stairs, and, as Sam passed the partially burned mural on the wall, he wished he could run into Jesse James' ghost too but wasn't stupid enough to set the protection charm aside. He wondered if Dave was somewhere in the building or if he'd taken his own advice and cleared out until they made it safe.

Sam entered the dimly lit kitchen and went first to the ovens. He reached behind them and grinned, feeling the cloth-covered pan Adele had left and sniffed appreciatively. "Maybe we can keep her in the trunk and she can cook for us on the road," he said softly and chuckled as he set it on the counter and opened the door of the refrigerator. Inside were two covered bowls and he pulled out one, cracking the lid, and drooled a little at the goulash inside. "Oh, hell, yeah."

He set it beside the bread and went looking for bowls, feeling a bit odd puttering around the large kitchen by himself in the early hours of the night. There should have been a dinner rush, people filling the tavern and music playing. It was certainly a little surreal. Sam rubbed his arm over his forehead, wiping away sweat in the overwarm kitchen and was glad he'd only put on a t-shirt.

"Geez," Sam groaned as the heat seemed to soar higher. He remembered seeing a thermostat on the wall outside the kitchen door, and as he turned, he jumped at the sound of something heavy moving in the hall. "What the hell?" Sam ran to the door, pushed on it, and it banged into something on the other side, preventing him from getting out. A second loud bang spun him around to the side door off the kitchen in time to watch one of the tall, double ovens slide over and slam into the wall in front of the door. A third bang sounded at the door to the wine cellar, and Sam's jaw dropped. He put a hand over the gris-gris bag in his pocket and groaned. "Guess I know how far the range extends now. About eight feet. Dammit." The spirit, for whatever reason, had waited until Sam moved far enough away from the doors and then locked him in.

Sam put a hand to his back pocket and dropped his head back on a groan. He'd left his cell phone in the room in his other pants. "Dean's gonna kick my ass." He wiped at the sweat now pouring from his face and frowned because it was even hotter than it had been. "What…" He went to the ovens and found all of them belching out heat. Sam hurriedly turned them off and went back to the kitchen doors to try and force away whatever was blocking them. As he shoved at the door, he heard a series of clicks behind him and turned around to watch the oven dials rolling back up again. "Shit!" He looked down to his right as he felt a sudden rush of warmth and realized it wasn't just the ovens turning up the temperature; the thermostat outside must have been turned up all the way as well, and the furnace was now pouring hot air into the kitchen.

He felt a little dizzy as the heat made it difficult to breathe. Pulling in each breath was becoming an effort. Sam spotted a phone on the wall across the room and walked as quickly as he could to it, stopping to turn the ovens off yet again. He dialed their room and then slid to the floor against the wall with the receiver at his ear as the thick heat took its toll and his head swam while his mouth dried. He heard his brother fumble for the receiver with a curse and smiled weakly.

"Dean…kitchen," Sam managed breathlessly and let his head tip back into the wall. "Doors'r blocked." He swallowed hard in a parched throat and coughed. "Gris-gris bags…'bout eight feet." He let his hand and the phone drop into his lap while his head swam and his arm felt too heavy suddenly to hold it up. He looked across the room to the refrigerators and the sinks, thinking longingly of water and groaned. He knew as soon as he moved away from the ovens they'd be turned on again and the air was already too thick to drag a breath in easily. "Hurry," Sam whispered hoarsely and closed his eyes while he tried to find the energy to move again.

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_To Be Continued… _


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: Hurt, comfort, naughty…I went for the trifecta. Heh.

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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"_Dean's gonna kick my ass." He wiped at the sweat now pouring from his face and frowned because it was even hotter than it had been. "What…" He went to the ovens and found all of them belching out heat. Sam hurriedly turned them off and went back to the kitchen doors to try and force away whatever was blocking them. As he shoved at the door, he heard a series of clicks behind him and turned around to watch the oven dials rolling back up again. "Shit!" He looked down to his right as he felt a sudden rush of warmth and realized it wasn't just the ovens turning up the temperature; the thermostat outside must have been turned up all the way as well and the furnace was now pouring hot air into the kitchen._

_He felt a little dizzy as the heat made it difficult to breathe; pulling in each breath was becoming an effort. Sam spotted a phone on the wall across the room and walked as quickly as he could to it, stopping to turn the ovens off yet again. He dialed their room and then slid to the floor against the wall with the receiver at his ear as the thick heat took its toll and his head swam while his mouth dried. He heard his brother fumble for the receiver with a curse and smiled weakly._

"_Dean…kitchen," Sam managed breathlessly and let his head tip back into the wall. "Doors are blocked." He swallowed hard in a parched throat and coughed. "Gris-gris bags…'bout eight feet." He let his hand and the phone drop into his lap while his head swam and his arm felt too heavy suddenly to hold it up. He looked across the room to the refrigerators and the sinks, thinking longingly of water and groaned. He knew as soon as he moved away from the ovens they'd be turned on again and the air was already too thick to drag a breath in easily. "Hurry," Sam whispered hoarsely and closed his eyes while he tried to find the energy to move again._

**Chapter 8**

Dean jerked out of a sound sleep with the sound of a phone ringing and looked blearily around. The first thing he noticed was that his brother was not in the bed with him. He frowned and rolled to the night stand, reached for the phone and saw the note and his 'Sammy-radar' suddenly went off. He ripped the phone receiver out of the cradle and to his ear. "Sam?"

His brother's voice, harsh and out of it and sounding as though he was gasping for air did nothing to calm him. "Sam, talk to me! What…" He broke off when he couldn't hear Sam's voice anymore and lurched out of bed. He dressed in a rush and made sure he had one of the protective bags. He assumed Sam had meant the effective range of the things was no more than eight feet. Dean ran from their room and knew the kitchen was easily three times that. He cursed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean bolted down the hall to the stairs with the realization it left more than enough room for a spirit to screw with Sam from a safe distance. He hit the bottom of the stairs, swallowing around his panic, and used the bottom of the banister to swing out in a slide and sprint back toward the kitchen. He skidded to a stop in surprise. The kitchen doors were blocked by the massive, heavy wood cabinet that had once lined the wall ten feet away. No wonder his brother hadn't been able to budge the doors.

Dean reached the cabinet, put a hand out and frowned as he felt a wave of warmer air near the doors. "What the crap? Sam?" He called and moved to the side. Dean put his shoulder to the cabinet and pushed, grunting and groaning with effort. "Dammit!" he cursed and stood back, wiping sweat from his brow when it hadn't moved more than an inch. "Alright, screw this." He stalked back down the hall toward the dining room and the fireplace he'd seen there. "Dave can bill me if I break the damn thing." He went to the fireplace and took the long, heavy poker from the wall beside it. It was an antique and solid iron. He jogged back out and to the cabinet. Dean wedged the poker behind it and used it as a fulcrum. He put his weight into it again and this time succeeded in over-balancing the cabinet until it tipped forward and hit the floor with a loud crash.

"Sam!" He shouted and stepped up onto the thing. There was just enough room between the bottom of the cabinet and the doors to pull one open and stick his head in. "Sam? Answer me!" Heat poured out of the open door and hit him in the face, breaking him out in an instant sweat. Fear choked him as his first thought was "fire" with the air so overheated, but then he realized he wasn't smelling any smoke. It was just incredibly HOT, and he had to fight back the panic wondering how long his brother had been trapped in that furnace before he'd called. "Hang on, Sam!"

Dean turned and put his back to the door, planting his feet on the base of the cabinet. He growled and yelled and finally managed to shove it several feet away from the doors with the new leverage. He wasted no time running into the kitchen feeling the heat wash over him in waves. He spotted the phone on the wall by the ovens and shivered in fear seeing the cord hanging down below the counters. He rounded them at a run and dropped beside Sam while his heart lurched into his throat.

"Sam," Dean whispered fearfully and put a hand to his throat. It was hard to breathe in the kitchen with the heat so cloyingly high. Sam was flushed red through his face and arms below the sleeves of his t-shirt. Dean's fear jacked up another level as he realized Sam had been trapped in it long enough to no longer be sweating, but at least his heart was still beating; thankfully, Dean could feel it under his fingers, and his chest still rose and fell with shallow, hitched breaths.

"Ok, buddy. Ok. Gettin' you outta here." Dean pushed and pulled, not bothering to wipe the sweat from his own eyes when it ran in and stung as he got Sam up and over his shoulders. He tried not to lose it, feeling the heat pumping from Sam against his shoulders. He walked unsteadily back through the kitchen and was swimming in his own sweat by the time he stepped back out in the hall with Sam into the much cooler air.

"Oh, my God!"

Dean's head jerked up and he dropped it again in relief as Dave walked into the tavern. "Get over here!" Dean ordered and slowly lowered his brother's feet to the floor. "Get under his other arm and help me get him upstairs."

"What happened?" Dave slid under Sam's left side without needing to be told twice and jerked in surprise. "Is he running a fever?"

"Your ghost locked him in the kitchen and turned all the ovens on. Get that arm higher." Dean took most of his brother's weight as they climbed the stairs; fast as they could with Dave keeping him steady between them. "Heat exhaustion."

"I should call an ambulance." Dave made to reach for his cell phone but stopped when Dean shook his head.

"Take too long by the time they got here, and they'd just do what we're gonna do." Dean worked to catch his breath when they reached the second floor and turned down the hall to their room.

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm gonna get him in the tub and you're gonna find the biggest bucket you've got and fill it with ice." Dean looked over at the man and sighed. "I'm gonna give you something when we get to the room, and believe me when I say you wanna keep it on you when you're in this building until we get this asshole."

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, ok." Dave nodded, swallowing audibly as they reached the room and Dean pushed the door open. "Are you sure we shouldn't get him to a hospital?"

Dean shook his head. "Maybe. Depends on how he is once I wake him up. Bathroom." He let Dave help carry Sam that far and ease him down to sit against the wall. "Ok; go get that ice. And here..." He pulled the gris-gris bag from his pocket and held it out. "It's protection from the spirits. Do not go anywhere without it." The manager nodded furiously and dashed away.

"Alright, Sammy." Dean peeled his shirt up over his head to reveal his flushed and dry skin and moved him so Sam lay flat on the floor and then rolled his jeans down his hips and off his legs. He couldn't help the little smirk, finding that his brother hadn't bothered with underwear. "Always givin' me ideas, little brother." He said it lightly but inside he was still wrestling the fear that he'd be rushing Sam to a hospital soon. Dean leaned up and started the tub filling and then wrestled Sam's six-foot-four frame into him. He banged his elbow twice in the process but finally had him inside with cold water slowly rising up his body when he heard Dave come back in the room.

Dean went to the bathroom door to stop the man coming in and seeing Sam naked. "Thanks." Dean took the big floor mop bucket Dave had filled with ice and managed a smile. "I'll call you if we need anything else."

"Oh, well…alright." Dave sighed, wringing his hands together and stepped back. "I'll just, uh…check the kitchen."

"Probably don't wanna do that on your own," Dean warned. "Just…stay in your office or something. I'll call and let you know." Dean closed the bathroom door on him and went back to the tub. He upended half the bucket into the tub, listening to the ice clank against the enamel-covered metal and set it aside, then went to the sink and filled a glass with cool water. He went back and sat on the edge of the tub, sliding an arm across his brother's chest.

"Wake up, Sammy. Please." Dean set the glass down and used his free hand to scoop the chilled water up over his neck and chest. He watched the long arch of his brother's throat with Sam's head resting on the back of the tub and saw him swallow, saw his breathing hitch and then swallow again harder. "Sammy? That's it, buddy. That's it. I gotcha." Dean leaned over him and smiled, going weak with relief as Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"D…Dean." Sam's face tightened in pain as he tried to swallow again but his mouth and throat were so dry.

"Hang on." Dean brought the glass of water back up and held it to his lips. "Sip, Sam."

Sam swallowed greedily as the first cool water flowed into his mouth and he brought a shaking hand up to hold the glass, moaning in frustration when Dean pulled it away.

"I said sip it or you're gonna puke in the tub, genius," Dean reminded him gently and put the glass back to his mouth, pleased that this time Sam took it slow. A few minutes later, he set the empty glass on the floor and curved a hand around Sam's jaw. "Give you more in a few minutes. How you feeling now?"

Sam closed his eyes and nodded, shivering in the cold water. "Ok. I'm…I'm better."

"Not yet, but you will be." Dean could still feel unnatural heat under his hands in spite of the ice and water. He reached over and turned off the tap, then cupped more water in his hand to pour it over his brother's neck, darkening the collar, the only thing Sam was still wearing. He rested his hand over it and blew out a breath. "Scared me, dude."

Sam smirked weakly. "Scared me too. Shit, Dean." He shuddered in the water. "Couldn't get out."

"I know." Dean leaned in and rested his forehead on Sam's. They sat like that for a few minutes, quietly, while Sam cooled. "You sit up on your own for a sec?" Sam gave him a nod and Dean grabbed the glass, going back to the sink to fill it. "Dave helped me carry you back up here." He grinned when Sam's eyes flew open to look down at his naked self. "Don't worry. I didn't let him see anything."

Sam groaned and let his head drop back. He shivered again and felt Dean's hand on his shoulder before he could even consider moving to get out. "S'cold."

"That's the idea. Stay in a little longer." Dean knelt again and held the glass to his brother's lips, helping him hold it steady in a shaking hand while he drained it slowly. "You weren't even sweating anymore by the time I got to you, Sam. Trust me. You're hotter than you think you are." There was a beat of silence and then Dean rolled his eyes when Sam started laughing. "Shuddup."

Sam was reduced to breathless chuckles and rolled his head to look at Dean with a smile. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I expect head later."

Sam grinned and opened his mouth when Dean leaned in to kiss him. He moaned softly at the brush of lips and the tongue that darted into his open mouth to tangle with his. A few minutes later though, the other end of heat exhaustion caught up with Sam and he groaned, hunching forward as his stomach cramped. "Crap…Dean, I'm gonna…"

"Shit." Dean grabbed an arm when Sam lurched up in the ice water and started to push out. He slid an arm around the chilled skin of his back and got his brother out of the tub and kneeling in front of the toilet just as his stomach revolted. "Easy, Sammy." Dean rubbed a hand back and forth on across Sam's neck, squeezing and trying to give him something to focus on while he retched until finally he sagged back and slid over into his chest. "Done?"

"For now," Sam nodded his now pounding head wearily. "Still thirsty."

Dean ran a hand down his back and palmed Sam's forehead and smiled. "Think you're cool enough now. Come on. Bed." He helped him stand and supported him while he swayed at the sink long enough to rinse out his mouth before easing him into the bed. Dean laid beside him and pulled Sam in against him, not caring that he was still wet from the tub and shivered at the little, icy rivulets of water soaking into his shirt. "Soon as you're a little more steady, we're outta here. We're not staying in this place another night," Dean said firmly. "There's a motel a few blocks away."

Sam nodded and rolled his head wearily under his brother's chin, mouthing a grateful kiss against his chest. "No arguments from me." His whole body ached and felt exhausted at the same time, his head was pounding, and his stomach still churned warningly. Sam wanted to fall into an exhausted sleep, but he sighed and picked his head up. "How 'bout we just pack now and go find that motel? I wanna sleep."

Dean smirked and dropped a kiss to his forehead. "Sounds like a plan. Stay put. I'll pack up." Any other time he'd have shoved his little brother out of the bed to help him, but Sam still looked close to passing out and Dean had suffered the after-effects of heat exhaustion himself enough times to know just how miserable he was at that moment. He went to the little refrigerator in the sitting room, grabbed a bottle of water, and brought it back. "Here. Drink that."

Sam took the bottle, moaned softly in appreciation at the chill plastic and rolled it over his face and down his neck instead, savoring the feel of the cold against his skin. Dean chuckled and started grabbing up clothes, taking them out to the bags in the sitting room. Sam rolled onto his back and forced himself to stay awake and keep his eyes open. He'd drunk half the bottle by the time he decided he needed to move and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

"Not ready yet," Dean said as he came out of the bathroom and saw Sam pushing himself up to sit. "How're you feelin'?"

"Like I wanna sleep for a week," Sam groaned and dropped his head into his hands and then smiled when Dean's warm fingers slipped between his collar and the back of his neck. "Maybe not sleep the whole week."

Dean smiled and put his bag on the bed next to him. "Then you better get dressed 'cause you sitting here in nothing but that collar…" Dean rubbed a hand over his growing erection in jeans to relieve some of the pressure. "…gonna take us more than one try to get outta this room."

Sam watched Dean move away, his eyes on that bulge and his mouth watered. He smiled to himself and pulled fresh clothes from his bag. He was dressed by the time Dean came back and handed him his gris-gris bag. "Thanks."

Dean pulled Sam's bag up onto his shoulder with his own and slid an arm around his brother's waist when he stood, knowing Sam was still damn weak and likely to try and play it off. "Called Dave downstairs and told him we were bugging out until tomorrow and he should too."

"Is he mad at us?" Sam asked earnestly.

Dean snorted. "Dude, he helped me carry you up here, remember? The guy's kinda horrified, especially after one of his staff was killed. He's just happy we're gonna come back and fix this."

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The Clearwater Motel had nothing on the Talbott Tavern for comfort and décor. Sam laid on the far bed with yet another bottle of water, staring at the faded, yellow diamond pattern of the wallpaper and smiled when Dean came out of the bathroom naked and dropped onto the other bed, flopping to his back. The motel only had two bed rooms but at least they were queens.

Sam eased off his bed and over to his brother's. "I know you don't think you're making me sleep alone for some stupid 'take care of Sammy' logic."

Dean watched Sam crawl in beside him and rolled his eyes because he'd been planning exactly that so his little brother could get some sleep. "Of course not," Dean said instead and wrapped an arm around Sam's back, pleased that he didn't feel warm to the touch anymore.

"Good." Sam smirked and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth. "Glad you didn't put clothes on," He said softly and slid down to kiss Dean's throat, sucking gently until Dean hummed with pleasure.

Dean tipped his head back to give Sam more room and smiled. "Dude, play later. You need…crap…" He sucked in a breath as Sam's mouth closed over one of his nipples and he felt teeth squeeze just the right side of pain. "…need….uh…need to rest. Oh, fuck."

Sam chuckled softly and moved his head to give the other nipple the same treatment. "I'm resting." He slid further down his brother, dragging the nails of his fingers of Dean's stomach and mouthed wetly at his muscles as they rippled under his touch and Dean moaned softly. "This is me resting."

Dean tossed his head back with a grunt of pleasure as Sam's mouth closed over the head of his now hard cock. He picked his head up hurriedly to watch and caught his bottom lip between his teeth, holding his breath while he watched Sam's mouth slide down his length until his brother's nose was in the curls at the base of his cock and he felt himself bump the back of Sam's throat. "Fuck!" Dean put both hands into his brother's hair, fisted them and pulled sharply. Sam moaned loudly around him, driving the pleasure up further for Dean and it took his breath away.

Sam moaned and sucked hungrily at his brother with Dean's fingers pulling his hair perfectly, just the way he liked it. He rolled Dean's testicles in one hand and held down Dean's suddenly bucking hips with the other as Dean cried out above him. He rose up his brother's cock just enough to tip his head up and see Dean's face, meeting his lust-blown eyes and moaned.

Dean groaned, unable to stop his hips from trying to thrust up and saw in his brother's eyes exactly what he wanted. "Shit, Sammy. So hot, little brother," he gasped and used his hands in Sam's hair to hold his head in place as Sam took his hand off his hip. Dean thrust up into the heat of his mouth and let his head fall back again.

Sam thrust his own cock into the bed, needing the friction as Dean used his mouth; fucking in and out hard and fast. It drove Sam a little closer to coming each time Dean's cock hit the back of his throat and cut off his air for a few precious seconds but Sam didn't fight it. He swallowed around the head of Dean's cock instead and hummed loudly or moaned, making sure his brother could feel the vibrations. The bites of pain from the grip Dean had in his hair made it even harder not to come just from this but Sam struggled to hold on to it and give Dean this.

"Shit!" Dean cried as he watched Sam taking his cock like there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to suck him off. His head fell back again; his back arching with the sensation and Dean came with a sharp cry as he thrust up deeply into Sam's mouth. He felt Sam swallowing convulsively around him, taking everything Dean had and it pulled another, smaller orgasm from him until finally he was left spent and gasping on the bed with Sam's mouth suckling gently at his softening cock.

Sam pulled off when he felt Dean's hands in his hair tighten again, telling him it was enough and rolled his head to rest in the hollow of Dean's hip. He was so strung out on pleasure at that moment just from listening to and watching Dean fall apart for him that he was sure all Dean had to do was order him to come and he would. He crawled back up his brother with soft, biting kisses across his skin until he could reach his mouth.

Dean hummed contentedly and kissed Sam back, licking the taste of himself from his brother's mouth. He moved a hand across his stomach to Sam's hip and curled his fingers around the painfully hard length of Sam's cock. "So good for me, Sammy," Dean said softly in his brother's mouth as Sam whimpered with his touch. "Didn't come."

Sam shook his head and licked along his brother's bottom lip. "Didn't tell me to."

Dean groaned and put his other hand to the back of Sam's neck. He took hold of the collar and pulled just hard enough to make him gasp and strain his head back to keep breathing. Dean put his lips to Sam's adam's apple and sucked hard. He waited until Sam was whining and thrusting his cock into Dean's hand and begging in a soft litany of 'please, please, please' and Dean smiled as he leaned back to watch his face.

"Come." Dean ordered and watched in awe as Sam did. His little brother's back arched into him while his mouth fell open and Sam's orgasm fell hot and wet over his hand and stomach, his hips stuttering in a broken rhythm until Sam finally quieted and collapsed against him.

"Fuck," Sam gasped after a moment and just listened to Dean's heart beating under his ear as he got his breathing back under control. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand what it was that made him want to submit to Dean like this and he didn't care. He loved it. He loved that just the sight of his big brother falling to pieces because of him was enough to make him come. Sam couldn't imagine his life any other way. "Love you, Dean."

Dean smiled and rolled to wrap himself around Sam, wiping his hand on the edge of the bed while Sam did his usual octopus routine, curling long arms and legs over him to hold him just as close. "Love you too, little brother." He kissed the top of Sam's head and closed his eyes. "Get some sleep." Dean rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back and didn't realize until that moment that he'd been holding onto the fear from earlier in the evening of finding him in the kitchen the way he had. He'd finally been able to let go of it when Sam had made him come, their lovemaking serving as an affirmation and celebration of life in the face of the darkness and danger they faced every day. He kissed the top of Sam's head again, buried his face in his hair and went to sleep breathing in his little brother.

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_To Be Continued… _


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Misguided Ghosts

**Author:** Wincesteriffic Kaz

**Info:** A historic, haunted Tavern proves more than just a simple haunting. Set early season 2 Dean/Sam 5th in the "BYC Verse"

**Author's Note**: Last one! Did my best to…end on a bang. :P *snicker*

Graphic depictions within.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

**_~Reviews are Love~_**

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"_Come." Dean ordered and watched in awe as Sam did. His little brother's back arched into him while his mouth fell open and Sam's orgasm fell hot and wet over his hand and stomach, his hips stuttering in a broken rhythm until Sam finally quieted and collapsed against him._

"_Fuck," Sam gasped after a moment and just listened to Dean's heart beating under his ear as he got his breathing back under control. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand what it was that made him want to submit to Dean like this and he didn't care. He loved it. He loved that just the sight of his big brother falling to pieces because of him was enough to make him come. Sam couldn't imagine his life any other way. "Love you, Dean."_

_Dean smiled and rolled to wrap himself around Sam, wiping his hand on the edge of the bed while Sam did his usual octopus routine and curled long arms and legs over him to hold him just as close. "Love you too, little brother." He kissed the top of Sam's head and closed his eyes. "Get some sleep." Dean rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back and didn't realize until that moment that he'd been holding on to the fear from earlier in the evening of finding him in the kitchen the way he had. He'd finally let go of it when Sam had made him come and kissed the top of Sam's head again, buried his face in his hair and went to sleep breathing in his little brother._

**Chapter 9**

The Talbott loomed over them as Dean parked behind the building for what he hoped would be the last time. The parking lot was empty and the huge dumpster that had blocked the kitchen door the night before and kept Sam trapped inside had been moved away.

"You're sure no one else will be in there?" Sam asked as he got out and they went to the trunk to collect the bag with their shovels and shotguns.

Dean nodded. "Dave swears he got everyone out." He smirked. "Said he had to personally pick up Adele and carry her home this morning. She was determined to get inside and cook for us."

Sam chuckled, relieved that she was out of harm's way. He patted his pocket, reassuring himself the gris-gris bag was there. "You have yours?"

Dean rolled his eyes and put a hand over his jacket pocket. "You're the one who shoved it in here when we left, dumbass. Yes, I have it."

Sam chuckled and followed him to the kitchen door. He gave the dumpster a sidelong look and found he was leery of going into the kitchen again. He smiled and nodded when Dean brushed his fingers over the choker under his collar in a silent question. "I'm good."

"We are going to find this asshole today," Dean said surely and pulled the kitchen door open. He stepped inside and scowled. It was still overwarm inside which meant Grady's spirit had kept up his crap even after they'd left.

Sam moved past him, absently turned off the dials on the ovens as he went to the far wall and the door to the cellar. "Wonder who Dave got to move that oven away from the door for him?" Sam asked, pointing to the one double oven that sat askew from the others after being pulled away from the door. Grady had clearly been making sure he wasn't getting out without help.

Dean turned to watch the other side of the kitchen while Sam turned the knob on the cellar door and pushed. "Don't know."

"Well, damn." Sam shook his head and rammed his shoulder into the door. "Still blocked." He handed the bag to Dean. "Gimme a sec."

Dean nodded and pulled out their shotguns while Sam grabbed a sharpening steel from the nearest knife block. He raised a brow and then smiled when he worked out what Sam was planning. "You're gonna piss him off again, you bypass his handiwork like that."

Sam chuckled and put the point of the sharpening steel to the bottom of one of the hinges. "Good. He pissed me off." He took a heavy pan off the wall next to him and used it to slap the bottom of the rod. It drove the hinge up a couple inches and he pulled it out, letting it fall with a clatter and knelt to get the second hinge and then the one on the bottom. He spun on his knees at the sound of a rattle from across the room as Dean moved in front of him.

"Grady rattlin' the kitchen door, I'd guess." Dean said as the door into the tavern on the other side of the kitchen shook and then went still.

Sam stood, tossed the sharpening steel onto the counter and then gave the door a kick. He grinned as one side came loose, and he pulled the door away from the frame, sliding it to lean against the wall. "Whoa."

Dean turned and saw that the spirit had managed to get one of the heavy wine racks from the floor below up the stairs and wedged in against the door. He whistled. "Gotta give him points for creativity and effort."

Sam looked at it and shrugged. "Pull it out or shove it down?"

Dean studied it for a moment, moved Sam slightly away, and pulled his leg back. He kicked the side of the shelf solidly and grinned as it moved and slid down the stairs with a loud, thundering clatter until it came to rest at the bottom. "Down."

"Nice, Dean." Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes as he took his shotgun from his brother. "Probably not gonna need these while we've got the protection charms."

"Better safe than sorry, dude," Dean told him and moved down the stairs first. He climbed around the shelf where it canted against the wall and reached up to flick on the lights. They flickered to life, illuminating the disaster the angry spirit had made of the wine cellar. "Dave's gonna be pissed when he sees this." The cellar was still overpowered with the smell of spilled alcohol, and it made both their eyes water and noses burn as they crunched over the glass-covered floor to the root cellar again.

Sam pulled open the root cellar door and stepped into the long room. The lights were still on and Grady looked to have been at work down there as well. The crates and boxes had been moved as if by a whirlwind and stacked in haphazard piles from floor to ceiling in various places. "It's like a missing scene from Poltergeist in here."

Dean dropped the bag inside the door and knelt to pull out the shovels. "Long as he keeps his temper tantrums upstairs, he can stack all the furniture he wants."

"Dean." Sam stopped walking and stared as the lady in white slowly coalesced at the back of the root cellar, out of range of the gris-gris bags.

"Shit!" Dean jerked to his feet and leveled his shotgun, snarling when Sam stepped in front of him. "Move it!"

"No, wait!" Sam held a hand out to her and was careful not to move forward and force her to vanish. "She didn't hurt us before." He smiled at her. "Can you…can you help us?" She inclined her head in a slow nod. "You know where his bones are, don't you?" She nodded again and Sam sighed, knowing this was going to be an argument. He pulled the gris-gris bag from his pocket and turned to his brother.

"No way in hell, Sam." Dean said angrily.

"Dean, she knows where he is, but she can't show us if she can't move around the damn room." Sam tossed his charm to his brother who caught it with an angry glare. Sam smiled to try and reassure him. "If Grady shows up, you can just come give me a hug."

Dean growled but stepped back to the door of the cellar. "We're gonna have a little chat about this stunt later."

Sam smirked. "Look forward to it." He turned back to the spirit and startled slightly to find she had moved slowly toward him and was coming nearer still with her eyes focused on him. He took a step back. "Uh…you get any closer, and Dean's going to shoot you just on principle."

"Damn straight, I am," Dean waved the barrel of his shotgun at her when her eyes met his.

She stopped a few feet from Sam and turned slightly to her left. She raised a softly glowing hand and pointed to an area of floor hidden beneath one of the stacks of crates.

"He's under there?" Sam moved to the stack and looked back at her. "His bones are under here?"

"Hurry it up, Sammy," Dean warned and had his head cocked toward the floor above. "It's gone quiet up there and I don't like it."

"Right." Sam nodded his thanks to the spirit and began removing crates from the pile and tossing them aside until he reached the packed-earth floor underneath. Now that he looked at it, he could see a slight depression there, as though the ground had settled in an empty space. He looked up and took the shovel Dean tossed him. "Hopefully, he's not too deep."

Dean's nerves were on edge as he watched his brother dig and wondered how he'd ended up playing guard while a spirit stood over Sam, mere feet away, watching him silently. He squeezed his free hand around Sam's gris-gris bag and resisted the urge to toss it over and dissipate the woman's spirit, however friendly she seemed. She was too close to Sam, and it was making him nervous. Her head spun around to him suddenly with wide eyes and a fearful look.

"What?" Dean asked. He took a step closer and grunted as a wine box near the stairs flew at him suddenly and slammed into his head and shoulders. He went down heavily in the doorway and heard his brother calling his name as his eyes closed.

"Dean!" Sam let the shovel fall and ran to his brother as he hit the ground hard. He slid to his knees beside Dean and pulled him over gently. "Dean?" He was unconscious and reeked of bourbon, thanks to the filled crate that had struck him and the bottles shattered inside it. Sam looked out into the room and saw one of the hanging light fixtures on the far side of the room by the stairs begin to spark, and fear rose up to choke him. "Oh, not good. Shit!" He slid his hands under Dean's shoulders and hurriedly pulled him inside the root cellar as the first sparks dropped to the floor. Sam grabbed hold of the door, shoved his brother's legs out of the way and slammed it closed as a bourbon-fueled fireball exploded into life. He put his weight behind it as the door shook and then backed away with the sound of flames crackling on the other side and heat beginning to seep through the aged wood.

"Holy shit," Sam breathed and knelt next to his brother again. He checked his pulse, relieved to find it beating steadily and looked up at the lady in white. "You should go. You won't be able to stay there in a minute." He slid his hands under Dean's shoulders again, put the shotgun in his lap and slowly dragged him across the floor to the whole he'd been digging. The spirit faded out like a broken film reel as the effect of the gris-gris bags washed into her. "Ok, just…you're gonna be fine, Dean."

Sam grabbed his shovel up again and started to dig furiously. He saw the smoke beginning to curl under the door across the room and pushed that fear from his mind. The only chance he'd have of getting his brother out alive was to send the angry ghost on first. He tossed the shovel and dropped to his knees in the three-foot-deep hole he'd dug when he'd felt it strike something hard. Sam dug through the dirt with his fingers and quickly revealed a growing collection of bones, stained dark by the earth they'd been hidden beneath. He heard another commotion of bangs and small explosions from the wine cellar as he revealed the whole of Grady Peterson's remains.

Sam jumped back out of the hole and ran to the bag Dean had dropped beside the door. He coughed and gagged, forced to wade into the smoke filling that end of the room and tripped over the bag. He snatched at the handles and stumbled back out of the smoke and across the room to his brother.

"Almost, Dean," Sam gasped and fumbled the salt and lighter fluid out while he coughed with his throat and lungs burning from the hundred-proof smoke. He poured both down on Grady's bones and the clamor from the other room reached a fever pitch. Sam pulled the lighter out of his pocket, lit it, and tossed it down. The bones caught fire in a blaze that rose up out of the shallow grave, and Sam dropped to his brother, taking his shoulders again to move him away to the very back of the root cellar and away from the smoke. The banging and clatter from the wine cellar stopped suddenly at the same moment there was an unearthly howl, and then there was nothing but the sound of crackling fire both from the open grave and, more muffled, through the door.

"Dean?" Sam bent over his big brother's head, in spite of the overwhelming smell of bourbon, to get a look at him. A trickle of blood ran from his temple as Sam brushed his fingers through the short hair and smirked. "Guess we won't have to…" he broke off to cough again and cleared his throat. "…have to disinfect this." He curved a hand around his brother's jaw to turn his face up to him and smiled. "You smell like a distillery, man."

Sam looked up in surprise at the indistinct sound of a fire alarm and heard sprinklers suddenly spring to life in the next room. "Huh. Guess Grady was suppressing the fire system." He hunched over Dean and coughed again as smoke from the open grave blew toward them and ducked his head and shoulder around his brother's face to protect him until it passed. He felt Dean stir in his arms and leaned up enough to see him.

Dean felt a warm hand on his face, smelled bourbon and smoke, and had a dizzying memory of a bar in Texas when he'd been eighteen before Sam's voice broke through and grounded him. "Sammy?" He blinked his eyes open and found his little brother's face inches away. "Wha's goin' on?" He put a hand up to his head and wrinkled his nose. "We get kinky with the whiskey while I was out?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Grady got a lucky shot in before I toasted him." He helped ease Dean up so he was sitting, leaning against his shoulder, and stopped to cough again.

"Sam?" Dean's concern was instant and he finally took a look around, eyes widening in worry when he saw the cloud of smoke where the door out should be. He wrapped an arm over Sam's shoulders while he hacked, trading positions of who was supporting who and pulled him in once the coughing fit passed.

"I'm good," Sam assured him breathlessly and sat back up while he got his breath back. "Just sucked in a little more smoke than I should've getting the bag." He waved in the direction of the door and shrugged. "Dave's gonna need a new bourbon supply. The ghost lit it up and tried to torch us first."

"Aw, man," Dean groaned and shook his head. "What a waste!"

"How's your head feel?" Sam swiped a thumb over Dean's forehead, stopping a trickle of blood and bourbon from dribbling into his eye.

Dean snorted and had a go at standing up with his brother's help. "Head usually feels like this with the alcohol on the inside, not the outside. This way…" he groaned and put a hand out to the cool, back wall. "…this way's not as much fun."

"I think the sprinkler system's working now." Sam wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders to steady him. "Might be able to get out of here now."

Dean staggered to the root cellar door with Sam's help and put a hand to it. "Warm, not hot." He raised a brow. Sam nodded, and Dean took hold of the handle to pull it slowly open. Smoke roiled in through the open door along with warm, wet air, but the fire was out and a blackened wine cellar greeted them through the heavy mist of the sprinklers in the ceiling. They both coughed and covered their faces as they walked cautiously to the stairs. The floor under their feet crackled and crunched and felt warm through the soles of their shoes while the sprinklers quickly soaked them through.

Sam pulled them to a stop in the kitchen doorway. "Uh…thought you had your charm in your jacket?" The lady in white stood only a few feet away from them with an odd sort of smile on her face.

Dean shoved his hand into his jacket and came out with a wet, running mess of burlap that had once been a gris-gris bag. "Yech." He dropped it to the floor and wiped his fingers on his brother's shirt with a smirk.

"Dude!" Sam batted his hand away and then slapped Dean's chest when a second ghost strolled into the kitchen through the wall to their left. "That's…is that…"

Dean grinned and tipped an imaginary hat at Jesse James' spirit. "Evenin', pardner."

Sam rolled his eyes, his sense of awe broken, and snorted. "Seriously?"

"'Bout time someone sent that ol' boy on his way." Jesse's voice eased through the kitchen softly as he walked to the lady in white.

Dean and Sam watched bemused as the shade of the old gunslinger slid an arm around her waist, tipped the brim of his hat to them while she smiled and then both vanished. "Whoa."

"Holy crap," Dean whispered and then started to chuckle. "He did say he had better things to do. Dude! Ghosts gettin' their freak on." He slapped Sam's stomach and laughed. "You should write, like, an essay or something."

Sam groaned and pulled his laughing brother to the door. "I think all the bourbon's osmosing through your skin or something."

Dean was still grinning as they stumbled out the kitchen door and down the stone path to the Impala. "Jesse James, Sammy." He straightened and pulled out his keys. "It's awesome."

"You sure you should drive?" Sam hovered at the front of the car while Dean went to the driver's side. "You did get knocked out cold down there."

Dean scowled dismissively. "Get in the car already. I'm fine."

"Alrighty, then." Sam sighed, smiled and went around. He tossed the dripping duffel bag in the back seat and grimaced at the squelch of wet leather as he sat.

Dean pulled away from the Talbott tavern and decided calling Dave to let him know could wait a while. He wasn't terribly happy with the place after almost killing them both more than once the last couple days. He glanced sidelong at his brother while Sam pulled his wet t-shirt over his head and decided Sam could do with a lesson or two of his own. He tugged a rag from under the seat to clean up his head as he drove and grinned all the way back to the motel.

Sam knew something was up as they parked in front of their room. Dean's pleased look had changed to something slightly darker in spite of the grin as they drove, and he knew what that usually meant. He climbed out of the Impala bare-chested, wringing his shirt out on the pavement calmly while inside he was trembling in anticipation of whatever had put that look on his brother's face. He smiled over at him as Dean got out. "Didn't wanna stop for food?"

Dean shook his head and jerked a thumb at the room door. He waited for Sam to saunter over to him and then darted a hand out to wrap his fingers around Sam's collar. The sprinklers had left the braided, dark brown elephant hair almost black and it was slick in his grip. He jerked Sam's head to his and bit along his bottom lip while he ran his free hand down his brother's chest. He scraped his nails over one of Sam's nipples, down his abdomen so Sam squirmed, and then tucked his fingers into the waist of his jeans to brush the head of his now hard cock, and Sam moaned into his mouth.

"Still pissed at you, Sammy." Dean growled it as he let go of his brother's bottom lip and moved to bite his jaw instead. "Pulling that stunt in the root cellar." He leaned back enough to look at Sam and smirk. His little brother was already strung out and panting for him. Dean spun him and shoved him to the room door. "Inside. Strip. Now."

"Fuck," Sam groaned and his hand shook getting the door open, but he was through it in a second and peeling wet denim down his legs. He kicked the jeans aside and then stood there with the memory of Dean's nails on his skin making him shiver as his big brother paced into the room like a predator on the prowl.

Dean circled his little brother, a little in awe that Sam gave him this every time, gave him everything. He'd been wary of it once, afraid that the things he wanted to do with…to…Sam were wrong, but then he'd learned just how much Sam wanted it in a little gay nightclub in a backwater town. He pressed a hand over his own aching cock, willing it down because it was going to be a little while before he gave himself what he wanted; Sam first. "Knees, Sammy." Dean groaned softly when Sam dropped to his knees like someone had cut his strings and put his hands behind his back and bowed his head, clearly having trouble catching his breath just from being ordered around. "Jesus."

Sam was vibrating with need. Dean's voice, that low, gravelly drawl that screamed sex and love was enough to put him on the edge. He watched Dean walk to the bureau by the door where he'd tossed their bags from the corner of his eye and tilted his head just enough to see. Sam bit his bottom lip into his mouth on a low groan when he saw the soft flogger come out, lube, his plug, and the cockring. Sam closed his eyes and shuddered with 'want'.

Dean heard it and gave a feral smile because he was going to make Sam beg for it. He pulled his shirts off over his head and turned back, seeing Sam's eyes devouring his bare chest hungrily. Dean flicked open the buttons of his jeans, but did nothing else, just letting the stiff length of his cock push the fabric apart and grinned as Sam swallowed noisily. He reached back into the bag and pulled out the leather cuffs he'd picked up with Sam in mind.

Sam shivered with anticipation when Dean came back and knelt behind him. He leaned back into his brother's chest to savor the warmth from his skin and then yelped when a hard slap landed on his backside, sending a little thrill curling through him.

"Didn't say you could touch, little brother," Dean growled. He pushed Sam forward a little and quickly fastened the padded leather around each of his wrists and then put them together, slotting the rings into each together to hold Sam's wrists in place comfortably. He pushed Sam further until his brother was bent in front of him with his head on the carpet between the beds under the window and a sliver of sunlight peeked through to fall across his naked body.

"Dean," Sam whined it and wiggled a little, finding a comfortable angle for his head. He sighed as he felt Dean's hand smooth over the stinging skin he'd slapped and gasped when he felt slick fingers suddenly push into him. "Fuck!"

Dean chuckled as Sam's hips jumped and worked his fingers into him. He loved the little mewling cries that fell from his brother's mouth and the way his whole body would follow his hand back each time he drew his fingers out. He landed several more hard slaps to the cheeks of Sam's ass as he worked him open and then pulled away from him entirely to leave Sam gasping on the floor.

"Dean…Dean, please. Please!"

"Oh, not even close to enough yet, Sam." Dean stood and gathered the rest of his supplies before going back and kneeling behind him again. The sight of Sam all spread out for him with his hands cuffed at the small of his back made him shudder and he had to fight the urge to come just from that. When he had himself under control again, he picked up the plug and, as he always did, smiled at the gold letter 'D' stamped into its end. He coated it in lube and then picked up his other purchase, a small egg vibrator. He grinned, coated that as well, and then leaned over Sam's back, pressing his brother's arms between them.

"Twice I could'a lost you on this job because you walked off without me," Dean spoke into Sam's ear as he pushed the egg up inside him, feeling Sam's hips twitch in response, and then he put the end of the plug at his entrance. "And that stunt in the root cellar, leaving yourself open to attack…" Dean shoved the plug into Sam without warning and bit his neck below the collar when Sam shouted with pleasure. "You're not allowed to scare me like that, Sammy." Dean pulled him up suddenly and wrapped his arms across Sam's chest, burying his face in his brother's neck as he held him and let the last of the fear wash away.

"Dean." Sam gasped and turned his head to kiss softly at his ear. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's ok." He kissed and soothed his big brother while Dean held him and moaned the moment he felt Dean take charge once more and his big brother's cock slid against his back.

"You're gonna be." Dean promised and slowly let go. He stood and pulled Sam up with him gently, using his shoulders to balance him since Sam couldn't use his arms. He walked around in front of him and took Sam's mouth in a heated, needy kiss, licking and biting at his lips so Sam was shaking once more. "Gonna make sure you understand, you're mine," Dean spoke softly and knelt in front of him, looking up the long, muscled line of Sam's chest to meet his lust-blown eyes. "And you don't get to threaten what's mine."

Sam's body shuddered and his head fell back on a gasped moan when Dean's mouth closed around his aching cock. "Dean! Ah…fuck, Dean! Please!" The sensation of his cock slipping into all the wet heat and pressure as Dean hollowed his cheeks and grazed his teeth in all the right places made Sam's hips stutter, trying to push and thrust but Dean's hands held him firm. "Gonna make me…fuck!"

Dean shook his head and pulled off. He took the ring from his pocket and quickly slipped it around the base of Sam's cock, flicking the catch on the gold ring closed as Sam whined. He looked back up at him and caught the weeping head of Sam's cock between his teeth carefully. He loved the taste of him; sweet and salty, like the best pie he'd ever had in his life, and licked to make Sam cry out before he leaned back again.

"You remember your safe word, Sam?" Dean asked him.

Sam's entire body quaked from head to toe with the question and his eyes fell closed. "I…I…" He nodded.

Dean tsked and took the head of his brother's dick in his mouth again. He bit carefully at the small bundle of nerves under the head and felt Sam's knees go weak as he cried out again and then again. "Gotta hear you say it, kiddo. Safe word. Now."

"F…fuck me. Uh…Ch…cherries!" Sam panted and looked frantically down into Dean's eyes and was grateful beyond words for the cock ring or he would have come at that moment.

Dean smiled and stood again, letting Sam's head thump down onto his shoulder and he smoothed his hands up and down his arms, making sure they weren't pulled at a weird angle. "Good, Sam. So good for me." He leaned back and cupped his brother's face in his hands as Sam's breathing began to quiet. "Ok?" He meant it. If Sam said he'd had enough, then they were done; but if Sam had a line he wouldn't cross with or for Dean, Dean had yet to find it, and once more Sam nodded with a lusty smile splitting his face. Dean chuckled.

Sam darted forward and caught his brother's bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth before he let go with Dean's groan and smiled at him. "Don't you dare stop."

Dean shook his head fondly and moved back around behind his brother. "Knees." He helped Sam down and used a foot to shove his knees further apart so he was spread wide facing the window. Dean moved around in front of him again and fisted his hands in Sam's hair, pulling so Sam's head arched back as he moaned at the little bites of pain he loved so much. Dean gave his hair a final tug, brushed his fingers over the choker and then stepped away. He went to the window and twitched the curtain open. "I've gotta make a couple calls. Let Bobby know we dealt with things, tell Dave he needs a new bourbon supply," Dean said it nonchalantly and turned back to find Sam's eyes wide as he looked at the open curtains and the window. "Order some pizza maybe." He grinned as Sam opened his mouth and raised a finger in warning, eyes darkening with lust when Sam's mouth snapped closed. "Good boy."

Sam watched Dean walk to the door in no small amount of panic. He desperately wanted to come. He wanted to get his mouth on his brother's cock that was temptingly pressing through the 'v' of his open jeans. He opened his mouth again while Dean reached into his back pocket and a startled shout came out of him as something began to vibrate inside him. "Fuck!"

Dean chuckled and turned back to watch as he dialed the little egg up higher, held inside his brother by the plug and loved the way Sam's stomach muscles visibly shook as he hunched over and whimpered. "I'll be back," he said with a smile and stepped outside. He went and stood in front of the window, looking through the open curtains to see Sam struggle to kneel up straight again and watch his cock bouncing in reaction to the vibrations. Sam's face was a study in desperation and need and Dean took out his phone. He called and ordered food first, then Bobby to assure him the ghost had been dealt with and opted to let the older Hunter call and tell Dave about the damages then tucked his phone away to wait for the delivery while tormenting his brother with the remote, watching him twist and twitch through the glass.

Sam whined. He filled the room with desperate noises. Each time he thought to sit back and get a little friction with the plug holding him open, he saw Dean in the window with a brow raised and kept his place. He could just hear his brother's voice through the window as he spoke into his phone and slammed his eyes closed on a cry as the vibrations picked up speed inside him. The egg was maddeningly sitting against his prostate, tormenting him with sensation and his cock was close to hurting with the need to come.

He saw a shadow move across his closed lids and opened his eyes, gasping as he flushed red from head to toe. Sam could just see the ballcap of someone speaking to Dean on the other side of the window. If Dean moved even a fraction, Sam would be seen, tied and naked, straining with the desire to come. Sam shifted on his knees, thinking to move away out of sight, and then froze as Dean's head turned just enough for him to catch a flash of deep green in the sun, a tacit warning that if he moved, it was over. Sam moaned and put his head back, keeping his place and tried not to think too hard. He didn't want to disappoint Dean, and he knew if he could take whatever Dean dished out, his big brother would make it more than worth his while.

Dean smiled and turned back to the Chinese food delivery guy, making sure to keep his body in front of the window so he wouldn't see Sam instead. He coughed a laugh when the sound of his brother's moan briefly wafted out to them. "Thanks." Dean took the bag of food and watched the driver leave before he pulled out the remote to the tiny vibrator and nudged it up to its highest setting. That time there was no mistaking the passionate shout that came through the window. Dean pulled his jeans open once more as he opened the door, needing the relief of his straining cock being trapped and stepped back into the room. Sam was whimpering on the floor with his chest bowed out, head tipped back and chewing on his bottom lip. Dean twitched the curtains closed, set the food on the table for later, picked up a bottle of water and went to him. He knelt behind his brother and felt the sob shudder through Sam's chest when Dean dialed the vibrations back down and his arms went around him.

"Dean! Dean….please, please, please, oh, god, Dean…I can't…" Sam begged desperately.

"Easy, Sammy. I've gotcha." Dean slid a hand down his brother's chest and stomach to wrap around the impressive, dark and straining heft of his cock. "Did so good for me, little brother. Gonna give you a reward."

Sam nodded furiously as he felt Dean's fingers deftly flip open the cock ring and before he could even process the relief of the pressure, Dean was ordering him to 'come' in his ear and his body obeyed without a second thought. He screamed as he came with Dean's hand jerking him perfectly and his hips pushing the plug deeper into him. His cock pulsed out come up to his chin and on the floor and finally, he sagged back into his big brother's chest; unable to hold himself up any longer and flirting with passing out because it had felt that intense. Sam was vaguely aware of Dean sliding the ring back around him and whimpered at the touch on the now over-sensitive skin.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's chest again and pulled him back, pressing light kisses to his throat and face while he felt Sam's pounding heart slowly steady out under his hands again. He soothed him, rubbing Sam's chest, digging his fingers into his shoulders and down his arms to make sure he was still comfortable and smiled when Sam's face turned into his neck to suck a mark there. Dean cradled the side of his brother's face and raised a brow. "Done?"

Sam scowled lightly. "Didn't…didn't say cherries, did I?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head.

"Want it." Sam told him and turned to look over at the bureau and the flogger still lying there. He moaned when he felt the shudder pass through his brother's body around him and looked back up at him. "Then I want you."

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean groaned loudly.

Sam laughed softly, nodding and bit the underside of Dean's jaw just where he liked it. "That's…that's the idea."

Dean laughed and picked up the water bottle. He held it carefully to Sam's mouth and helped his brother drink half of it down before he set it aside again and rubbed his thumb over Sam's bite-swollen bottom lip while Sam wiggled his hips back, brushing heavily over Dean's neglected cock. He chuckled and pushed Sam forward enough so he could stand, then tugged him up and supported his brother while he swayed drunkenly with the after-effects of his powerful orgasm. Dean smirked; planning on making sure this was one of those times when Sam completely lost consciousness because it was just that amazing.

"Bend over the end of the bed," Dean ordered, moving his brother so he stood at the foot of the bed facing it. He took hold of Sam's bound wrists to bend him over and ease his head down to the bed, loving the appreciative moan Sam gave him. Dean stretched and grabbed one of the pillows, lifting Sam back up just enough to slide it under him and support his bruised chest. "Good?"

Sam nodded and turned his head to watch Dean pull the flogger off the bureau. He shivered with anticipation and groaned when Dean moved behind him again, took his hips and kicked his legs apart to angle his backside out more. "Please, Dean. Please?"

Dean ran his hands over the round of Sam's ass. He pushed the end of the plug a few times, rocking it and the still slowly vibrating egg inside Sam a few times so his brother whimpered. He grinned then and stepped back, running the soft leather of the flogger's straps through his hand once before he let it fly to slap across the back of Sam's thighs.

Sam shouted at the sudden sting, hips pumping forward as his cock began to fill again and the burn turned to pleasure. He moaned and cried out again and again as the soft, leather straps heated his skin, loving how Dean would vary the rhythm and where hit, making sure that the pain was never completely swallowed in the pleasure. Sam gave a broken scream into the bed when Dean landed a hit between his cheeks and pushed the plug deeper into him. At the same moment, the vibrations from the egg soared back to high and Sam felt tears of need escape his eyes.

Dean tossed the flogger aside and ran his hands over the warm, red-striped skin of his brother's ass. He loved the way Sam fell apart for him and became nothing but the pleasure Dean could give him. He took hold of the plug and eased it out while Sam whimpered for its loss. He tugged gently on the safety cord of the little egg but left it in while Sam twitched.

"You ready for me, Sammy?" Dean asked and realized his voice sounded every bit as rough and needy as his brother's.

"Fuck me," Sam gasped and turned his head to see Dean behind him, begging with his eyes and his voice. "Please, Dean. God, please! So ready for you! Need you to fuck me!"

Dean growled possessively, tore his jeans off his legs, and pressed the head of his cock to Sam's hole, trusting there was enough lube from the plug and knowing Sam wouldn't mind at all if there wasn't. He bent over him, taking hold of the back of the elephant hair collar and used it and Sam's hands to raise his head up and then Dean pushed inside Sam in one long, rough thrust.

"FUCK!" Sam screamed it, only realizing as Dean's cock filled him and made his muscles burn with the stretch that the egg was still there as well and was shoved against his sweet spot. It arched his back further, cutting off more of his air with Dean holding the choker. He pushed back, seeking more.

"Shit, Sam!" Dean yelled and decided he really was going to have buy himself a cock ring at some point as he fought the urge to come because being inside Sam, held tight by the fluttering muscles and with the egg vibrating at the end of his cock, he wasn't going to last. Fortunately, neither was Sam. He let go of the collar and, one at a time, lifted his brother's knees up on the bed. Dean pushed Sam low so that he was spread wide before pulling out and pushing back in with the loud slap of flesh on flesh.

Sam writhed with the feeling of another shattering orgasm creeping up quickly on him. He was shouting and whining, incapable of being silent as Dean overwhelmed him. He was nothing but pent-up pleasure as Dean took hold of his bound hands and slammed into him again and again while the egg buzzed inside him and Dean shoved it harder into that spot each time.

Dean held Sam's hands and leaned back just enough to spank his brother's ass hard, leaving the imprint of his hand behind each time until Sam was incoherent with pleasure under him. He had only moments left himself and reached around Sam's hip, took hold of his neglected cock for a few hard jerks of his hand and then he flicked the cockring open. Sam's entire body seemed to seize up for one, long moment, the muscles inside him gripping Dean's cock so hard he couldn't even move, and then his little brother's back arched as a ragged scream tore itself from him. Jet after hot jet of come pulsed from Sam's cock, over Dean's hand and onto the bed while he writhed.

"SAM!" Dean near-screamed it as his own orgasm tore through him. He curled over Sam's shuddering back to bite into his neck as he thrust erratically inside of him, filling him with his release until spots danced over his vision and he collapsed.

Dean came slowly back to himself enough to realize that Sam couldn't possibly be comfortable like that, crushed underneath him with his bound arms squeezed between his back and Dean's chest. He slipped slowly out of Sam, hissing with the over sensitized drag of skin, and made himself slide off him to his side. "Hey, Sammy," Dean said hoarsely and smiled, chuckling breathlessly as he found his little brother out cold, just as he'd planned. He rested his head in Sam's hair for a few seconds, breathing in the scent of him and then made himself move with a groan.

Dean eased off the bed and gently tugged the egg out of Sam, flicking it off and dropped it to the floor to worry about later. He uncuffed Sam's wrists and was pleased to see only a faint reddening of the skin from the restraint as he tossed them to the nightstand. He brushed a tender hand down Sam's sweat-drenched back and then went to the bathroom for a damp towel, coming back out and spent a few minutes cleaning himself and Sam, then rolled his not-so-little brother to his back and into his arms for the short trip to the other bed.

"Sam." Dean slid in behind his brother and eased Sam up against his chest with his head on his shoulder. He massaged his fingers into Sam's shoulders to ease any strain being cuffed had done and smiled at the first soft moan. "Wake up, buddy." He ran his hands up and down Sam's arms in a slow, strong massage, digging his thumbs into his shoulders while Sam's head turned into his neck and still he didn't open his eyes. Dean chuckled. "You gonna give me a sign here?"

Sam smiled and mouthed at his brother's neck behind his ear as the world slowly came back to him with Dean's voice. "Mmm hmm."

Dean rolled his eyes and slid them both down the bed until he could get Sam on his side and curl up behind him. He kept Sam wrapped in his arms and kissed softly at the back of his neck over and around the collar. "You alright?"

Sam nodded and pushed back so every inch of the back of his body was pressed into his brother's. "M'awesome," he mumbled happily. He knew he was going to feel it later once the endorphins wore off, but just then, all he felt was beautifully used and loved.

Dean laughed softly and let Sam settle in his arms against him, swinging one leg up over his little brother's and smiled into his hair. "Get some sleep, Sammy." He said it softly and closed his eyes, wondering what he'd done right to deserve Sam in his life. He held him more tightly, tangling the fingers of one hand in the choker at Sam's throat and tumbled into well-earned, exhausted sleep with him.

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_The End. _


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